I'll Be Your Stone
by a-bit-of-madness
Summary: Hermione saw the desperation and sadness that he was trying so hard to hide- the hollowness behind his eyes that indicated a boy barely keeping it together and without a second thought, she offered to help. As business blooms into friendship- and possibly more- the two find a safe harbour in each other. But Hogwarts can't last forever, and War is lingering at the castle gates.
1. Prologue

"Don't go," he muttered, his forehead resting against hers and his hand wrapped in her hair. "Please."

"I have to," she shook her head slowly, holding his face in her own hands, stroking his cheek softly.

"It's too dangerous. What if you're caught? What if you're-" he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, the words catching in his throat.

"It'll be okay," she promised. "I'll be fine, and when it's all over we'll finally be together. Everything will be okay."

"Your optimism is infuriating," he laughed harshly.

"I know," she smiled softly, leaning back so she could see his face properly. "But it's all we have."

They had only minutes before she would have to leave and Draco couldn't bear the thought of letting her go, of watching her disapparate for what could be the last time.

"Promise me," she grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "Promise me that you'll be safe. No matter what happens, I need you to take care of yourself."

"I promise, as long as you do," he met her eyes.

"I mean it, Draco. No matter what happens," she repeated.

"You mean no matter what happens to you," he realized, pulling away from her angrily.

"Yes. Draco, please, promise me."

There were tears in her eyes as she watched him pace, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought back the urge to lash out at her.

"Draco," the pleading tone in her voice made him stop and look at her, studying her as though he was going to be tested- and maybe he was, who knew how long he would have to live off nothing but the memory of her.

"Please," she whispered, her gaze dropping from him to her lap, where she twisted a ring nervously.

"I promise," he sighed, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. "I promise."

"Thank you," she rested her forehead against his again, breathing in the moments they had left together. "Promise me the same, though," he took her face in his hands, his thumb stroking her cheek. "No matter what happens to me, you keep yourself safe."

She nodded, unable to actually say the words.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," Draco wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

"It's time to go," Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly appeared in the doorway, his voice startling the couple from their reverie.

"Right," Hermione nodded quickly, wiping the remaining tears from her face. "I'll be there in a minute."

Kingsley nodded and stepped out of the doorway to give them a final minute of privacy.

"I love you," Hermione repeated, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend tightly.

"I love you too," Draco held her tightly, trying to memorize every inch of her.

They shared one last kiss, trying desperately to make it say everything that they couldn't, and then Kingsley was in the doorway again insisting that they had to go now.

"We'll be together again," Draco promised as she pulled away.

"Now who's the optimist," she smiled wryly.

That was the last thing he saw, that infuriatingly sexy smile of hers, and then she was gone and he was alone.

"We'll be together again," he repeated to himself quietly. "We have to be."


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is more of a prologue to the story that I've been working on. I wanted to establish Draco and Hermione's relationship and the time they spent together working on the cabinet. I got my original inspiration from the song Stone by Jaymes Young.**

 **I own nothing, yada yada yada, thanks so much for reading!**

Draco had never really agreed with Voldemort's order, not really. He knew that Muggleborn witches and wizards were just as good as Purebloods- you didn't go to school with Hermione Granger for six years and not know she was smarter than the entire ministry combined- and he'd never had a real problem with Muggles, but his parents had insisted that Voldemort was right, and he'd had no choice but to accept that.

Then He had risen, and Draco had realized how wrong they really were- how deranged their master truly was- but his parents wouldn't listen. They had let Him into their home, served at His beck and call, given Him anything He wanted- including their only son. He had taken the mark after his father's imprisonment as an attempt to keep his mother safe, but he knew it was nothing but a fool's errand. The only way to truly help his parents was to ensure the downfall of the Dark Lord.

When he had been tasked with killing Dumbledore, Draco knew he wouldn't be able to do it, he knew the Dark Lord was setting him up to fail so that he would be able to kill both him and his mother. The assignment was nothing more than a punishment for Lucius's imprisonment, but if he failed, his mother would die and Draco couldn't let that happen.

He spent every waking hour trying to come up with a way to save both his mother and himself, failing time and time again to fulfil his tasks. The day Hermione found him in the Room of Requirement was the same day that his marble facade finally cracked. His first attempt to kill Dumbledore had been an absolute train wreck, he'd only _found_ the cabinet the previous week and had yet to be able to open it let alone fix it, he could barely sleep from his nightmares and the soul crushing anxiety that plagued him every second of every day was starting to make him feel like he was going mad.

"FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he screamed, blasting a stack of chairs to smithereens.

"You're a bit old for tantrums, don't you think?"

He hadn't heard the door open- he didn't even know anyone could _find_ the door when he was inside- and at the sound of her voice he turned and shot a bookcase at her.

Hermione barely even flinched as she raised her wand and sent it flying in the opposite direction.

"Well, that was uncalled for," she huffed, hands on her hips. "Honestly, use your damn words."

"What the fuck are you doing her, Granger?" he growled. "How did you even get in here?"

"You don't own the room, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes.

"I got here first, I get the room!"

"Would you stop acting like a child?" Hermione snapped. "It's embarrassing!"

"You know what, Granger, you don't know a thing about me or my life or really anything at all! So why don't you just stick to what you know- being an annoying little bookworm!"

"That's exactly what I was trying to do. So if you would kindly clear out, I'll get back to my books."

"Forget it, I was here first!" Draco scoffed. "And I have _far_ more important things to worry about than your ability to answer every bloody question in every bloody class!"

"Really?" Hermione demanded, her fists balled angrily and her eyes filled with fire. "Well please, Malfoy, enlighten me. What could possibly be so important that you would lower yourself to arguing with a mudblood, just to get your precious little room."

"Well, let me see. Voldemort is holding my mother hostage and threatened to kill her and me if I didn't take the Dark Mark in my father's place. Upon taking that mark he tasked me with murdering our Headmaster- a task that, if not completed, will result in the death of myself and my mother. I also have to fix this fucking cabinet, that no one has ever figured out how to fix, so that the Dark fucking Lord can get the rest of his followers in here to make sure that I get the job done. So I think my desperate attempts to save my mother's life are a good fucking reason, don't you?!"

Draco breathed heavily, his face red from shouting and his fists balled like Hermione's. Underneath all that anger, Hermione saw the desperation and the sadness that he was trying to hide- she saw the empty look in his eyes and her heart went out to him.

Without giving it too much thought, she stepped towards him with her arms open.

"What are you doing?" Draco demanded, putting his hands out to stop her and taking a step back.

"It's called a hug, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes. "It's a gesture used to comfort someone when they're having what appears to be a nervous breakdown."

Ignoring his uncomfortable protests, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to her level. When she felt his arms encircle her, she'd thought she'd be scared or disgusted, but she didn't. Instead, she smiled. And when he started to sob, she didn't back away, she just held him a little tighter and kept quiet while he let out years of pent up anger and fear.

"It's going to be okay," she said soothingly.

When Draco was finally able to calm down, Hermione dragged him over to one of the room's many couches and forced him to sit.

"You need to go to Dumbledore," she said. "He'll be able to help you."

"Did you miss the part where I told you I'm supposed to kill him?!" Draco demanded. "I don't think he'll take very kindly to knowing that- even if I have been absolute shite at it."

"I think he'll be quite pleased to know that you'd rather not," Hermione offered. "People tend to like it when they find out someone doesn't want to kill them."

"Yeah, well I can't tell him," he shook his head. " _He'll_ know, and then my mother will die."

Hermione frowned at this, her face taking on the same expression it did when she was working on a difficult potion.

"So if you don't get the cabinet working, He'll kill your mother and probably you," she said slowly. "And if you don't kill Dumbledore, he'll definitely kill you both. It sounds like he just wants to kill you."

"That's because he does," Draco sighed.

"Why don't you just leave?" Hermione asked, seriously confused. "The Order would help you, they would find you somewhere safe."

"My mother will never leave the Manor, and my father will never stop believing that the Dark Lord knows best," he shrugged. "They're all I have, though, I can't leave them."

At this, Hermione fell silent again, her brow furrowed as she thought about his situation, all the while studying him like he was a new edition of 'Hogwarts: A History'.

"I'll help you," she said with finality.

"Excuse me?" Draco looked at her like she had lost her mind.

"With the cabinet," she nodded. "I'll help you try to get it working."

"Because you've suddenly decided to join the Deatheaters?!" he gaped.

"No, because you quite obviously don't want to be a part of this, and I think I can help with that."

"Granger, that's insane," he shook his head. "You can't help me."

"Malfoy, have you ever known me to back down from a challenge?"

"Why would you help me? We're not friends."

"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear over the last six years," Hermione assured him. "But I happen to believe that you don't actually want to have any part in this and want to do the right thing, and I'm willing to help you with that."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"I'll make you a deal," she shrugged. "I'll help you with the cabinet, and in exchange I'll pass information you give me to Dumbledore, to pass to the Order."

She was insane. Completely, absolutely, certifiably insane. There was no way that she would do this for him- not after all the years he had spent torturing her. And yet, here she was, sitting on the floor next to him with the most sincere look on her face.

"Do you want to make a wizard's oath?" she offered, completely serious. "I'm not kidding, Malfoy. Let me help you."


	3. Chapter 2

They started work the next night, tiptoeing around each other and mostly avoiding any and all contact for the first month, but when neither of them had tried to kill the other, the ice slowly began to thaw.

"Stop it," Draco said, not looking up from the charm work he was performing on the cabinet.

"I'm not doing anything," Hermione argued.

She was sitting on the floor a couple feet away, trying to decipher a series of runes they'd found on the bottom of the cabinet.

"You're watching me. It's creepy."

"I'm not watching you," she rolled her eyes. "I'm just thinking."

"Well, feel free to share with the rest of the class," he drawled.

"It's just weird," she shrugged. "I mean, we spend every night together and we're doing this huge thing, but we barely know anything about each other... it's just kind of crazy when you really think about it."

"Alright," Draco threw his hands up and dropped onto the floor beside her. "Have at it, Granger. What do you want to know?"

"What?" Hermione frowned at him, setting aside her rune dictionary.

"You're right. We barely know anything about each other, even though we spend all our free time together. So, whatever you want to know, have at it," he put his arms out, as if to make himself a target.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Sorry?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You heard me. What's your favourite colour?" Hermione repeated.

" _That's_ what you want to know?" he asked skeptically.

"You said anything," she shrugged.

Draco shook his head, a disbelieving smirk on his face. "I did say that," he agreed. "Blue. My favourite colour is blue."

"Like, Ravenclaw blue?"

"More like the blue in the Puddlemere United logo."

"Are they your favourite team?"

"Since I could walk," he nodded. "What about you? Favourite colour."

"Purple," Hermione answered readily. "Dark purple, like the colour royalty used to wear."

"How very aristocratic," Draco smirked. "I would ask your favourite Quidditch team, but I know you could care less about the game."

"That's not true! I've seen every game Harry's ever played in- and the ones that he's missed."

"It doesn't count if you bring a book," Draco scoffed.

"There is not a rule that says that," Hermione insisted. "And he's never complained."

"That's because he's rather dense."

"Hey," she raised an eyebrow in warning.

"I'm just stating a fact," he shrugged. "You and I both know that he wouldn't be able to find the toilets without you there to help him."

"You know, we were having a perfectly civil conversation," Hermione huffed.

"Okay, okay," Draco held his hands up in apology. "Um... what's your favourite food?"

"Pasta. It doesn't matter what kind, I'll eat it all. You?"

"Bread pudding."

They went on like that for almost a month, filling the silences with mundane questions about each other, learning about each others childhoods, likes and dislikes.

"If only it had been a wardrobe instead of a cabinet," Hermione sighed wistfully.

"Is there really a difference?" Draco asked in a bored tone.

"Of course there is. One would have fulfilled a childhood dream of mine, the other is just a boring old cupboard."

"Your childhood dream was to spend your every waking hour worrying about fixing a useless and, quite frankly, ugly antique?" he smirked.

"No, Malfoy," Hermione glared. "I wanted to find a magical wardrobe that would transport me to a far off land."

"You had a rather active imagination as a child, didn't you Granger?"

"Don't be a prick," she chided. "There was a muggle book series that I read when I was little about a magical wardrobe that transported a girl and her siblings to a far off magical land, and I always wanted to find a wardrobe like that."

"Well in that case," Draco got to his feet and gave her a deep bow, gesturing comically to the cabinet. "Your wish is granted. Use the next two wisely."

Hermione laughed despite herself, shaking her head at the absolute ridiculousness of the situation.

"Hang on, what do you mean 'two more wishes'?"

"Are you not familiar with the concept of a genie, Granger?"

"Oh, I'm perfectly familiar with the concept," she assured him. "I'm wondering how _you_ are. Genies are muggle folklore, they don't have a wizarding equivalent."

"I'm aware of that," Draco assured her. "I'm not as sheltered as I appear, Granger. I've read my share of muggle novels."

He wasn't looking at her, but Draco could tell by the silence that she was completely shocked.

"Don't look so surprised," he drawled.

"You're not even looking at me!"

"That's how palpable the surprise is."

"Well, can you blame me?" she asked. "The great Draco Malfoy, pureblood of all purebloods, admitting that he's read classic muggle literature? It's a bit shocking."

"No more shocking than the great Hermione Granger helping a Deatheater."

"Don't call yourself that," she snapped, making it Draco's turn to look surprised. "And don't give me that look."

"You're not even looking at me," Draco echoed her earlier statement, though his voice held a hollow tone.

"I think we've spent enough time together in the last month that I know what your face looks like," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You may be a stuck up, annoying prick that I want to punch in the face on a regular basis, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you call yourself that dreadful name."

"Why?" he scoffed. "It's true."

"It's not!" Hermione insisted.

" _This_ would beg to differ," he sneered, ripping his sleeve open to bare the Dark Mark on his arm.

"Oh please," she sniffed "That's nothing more than some magically imbued ink. You're no more a Deatheater than I am."

She said it with such conviction, as though she had never even thought twice about whether or not it was true. And then she simply turned back to analyzing the cabinet, as if she hadn't just turned Draco's entire life on end.

"Are you going to stare at me for the rest of the night, or are you going to help?" she called over her shoulder after another minute of silence. "Because if I get this working without you, you'd better believe I'm going to take the credit- fuck the Dark Lord and his tasks."

Draco couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he joined her- Hermione couldn't help but notice how much she liked seeing him smile.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: After further consideration and a week of intensive writer's block, I've decided to combine what was going to be the fourth chapter with this one, so please excuse the bit of repetition at the beginning. I'll have the actual fourth chapter up later tonight**

 **-Em**

"Did you have a favourite?" Hermione asked, completely out of the blue.

"Excuse me?"

"The other day," she tried to explain herself. "You said you weren't as sheltered as everyone believed and that you've read Muggle classics. So, did you have a favourite?"

"Oh," Draco fiddled with his wand uncomfortably. "Um, yeah. _A Tale of Two Cities_ by Charles Dickens."

"Oh, I loved that one!" Hermione grinned. "I learned to knit because of Madame Defarge."

"Of course you did," he chuckled. "So, what about you Granger? You have a favourite classic?"

"It's changed a few times over the years, but right now I think I'd have to say _War and Peace_ by Leo Tolstoy."

"Not _Anna Karenina_?"

"I liked that one too," she nodded. "But I found _War and Peace_ far more interesting. _Anna Karenina_ always just seemed so... gossipy."

"And _War and Peace_ wasn't?" Draco scoffed. "Half of the book is about the love triangle between Anatole, Natasha, Pierre and Andre."

"A triangle only has three sides," Hermione corrected. "It was more like a love hexagon- especially if you remember Helene and Andre's first wife and Anatole's wife."

"You realize you're just making my point for me, right?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up," she bit back a smile.

* * *

"Right, one more time," Draco shook his head, a confused look on his face.

"They're called films, or movies and it's like a play, but instead of being on a stage it's recorded with a special device so that you can watch it anytime you like," Hermione explained for the fourth time that evening.

"And you watch it on a PVR?"

"A VCR," she corrected. "Yes. You put a tape, which holds the film, into a VCR and then it plays on the television."

"And then you can enjoy it whenever you like, without having to go out and get dressed up?"

"Exactly."

"Why haven't wizards worked that out?!" Draco demanded. "It would be brilliant! I'd never have to go to the theatre again."

"Oh, yes, you were _so_ hard done by!" Hermione scoffed. "Having to go to the theatre and see brilliant productions for your entire life."

"It loses it's charm after a while," he argued. "Almost immediately, in fact, when you're being dragged there at five years old."

"Five?!"

"Just like a good little pureblood."

"I suppose I understand your aversion, then," she allowed. "I doubt you were the kind of five year old that would enjoy sitting still for very long."

"Really? What kind of child do you think I was, Granger?" Draco asked, eyebrow arched suspiciously.

"Presumably the kind that made everyone around you want to pull their hair out," she smirked.

"Well then!"

"Of course I'm only going off of what I can see now. I usually want to pull my hair out when we're in the same room."

"Yes, I can tell," he nodded to her hair, which was currently tied on top of her head and sticking out wildly.

"Alright, what kind of child _were_ you?" Hermione challenged, choosing to ignore his comment. "And don't try to tell me you were well-behaved."

"I had my moments! Granted, they were few and very far between, but I'm sure my mother could come up with a few times."

"They don't count if you were asleep."

"Oh," his face fell. "In that case, you're right, I was a horrid child. The House Elves hated me."

"Were you really dreadful to them?"

"No, of course not," Draco shook his head quickly. "Not every pureblood abuses House Elves."

"Really?" Hermione didn't look convinced. "Because as far as I've seen, it seems to be the norm."

"For my father's generation, sure, but not everyone is like that. The House Elves were the only friends I had when I was small."

"Friends?"

"Well, not friends maybe," he allowed. "But they were my playmates- and caretakers when my mother wasn't around."

"I'd bet they wanted to thrash you more than they wanted to play with you."

"Probably," Draco laughed. "Although they didn't need to usually. I was quite adept at getting myself bruised and battered without their help."

"Bit of a klutz, were you?" Hermione smirked.

"Oh, and I suppose you were the epitome of grace at five?" he scoffed.

"Not at all," she shook her head. "I was horribly clumsy. I tripped over my own feet all the time, and I seemed to be permanently bruised."

"And were you a trouble maker, Miss Granger?"

"What do you think?" she laughed. "I sat quietly with my books most of the time."

"Shocking!" Draco pretended to be surprised. "What did you do for fun?"

"I sat quietly with my books. I didn't really have friends- and I certainly didn't have elves to play with."

"What do you mean you didn't have friends? Who wouldn't want to be friends with you?"

" _You_?"

"Well I obviously saw the light, didn't I?" he waved around them.

"If that's how you'd like to see it," Hermione shrugged. "It's certainly not how anyone back home did. I was just the odd girl with wild hair and big teeth."

Draco winced at this, remembering all the times he had mocked her for the very same things.

"It didn't bother me," she backtracked quickly. "Not much, at least. It's just how things were. I was different and the other children didn't like it."

"So you made friends in books."

"Exactly. I remember, the first time I read Matilda, I felt like I'd found a kindred spirit," she smiled wistfully.

"Matilda?"

"It's a book about a little girl who's incredibly smart, she reads everything she gets her hands on, and she plays practical jokes on people who are mean to her."

"I get the bookworm part, but practical jokes don't seem like your style," Draco frowned.

"That wasn't why I loved her so much," Hermione explained. "She could make things happen with her mind."

"Like you could," he nodded slowly.

"Exactly. I figured I couldn't be so very odd, if someone had thought to write a book about a girl who was just like me," she smiled sadly.

"You're not odd," Draco said quietly. "There's nothing odd about being different from everyone else. It's what makes you, you. And anyone who gives a damn about you wouldn't want you to change a single thing."

"Well that certainly isn't true," she scoffed. "There are plenty of things Ron would change about me, he tells me on a regular basis."

"That's because he's too stupid to know how brilliant you are. Believe me, if he had any brains to spare, he'd see how good he's got it with you in his life."

An awkward silence fell between them, neither one willing to meet the others eyes, and they quickly turned their attention back to the cabinet, filling the rest of the evening with the occasional muttered spell and the scratches of quill on parchment.

* * *

"Two?!" Hermione scoffed.

"That's the normal age," Draco insisted.

"The normal age to learn how to ride a broom is two?!"

"Well, it's not a _real_ broom," he argued. "It only hovers about a foot off the ground, but yes. My father gave it to me for my second birthday."

"My parents gave me a tricycle when I was two and my mother almost divorced my father over it," Hermione proclaimed. "Your mother was perfectly fine with you flying?"

"Merlin, no!" he laughed. "She screamed at my father for hours about how I was going to kill myself on it and how she would kill him."

"See, _that_ I can believe."

"Yes, well, as we've established I wasn't a terribly well-behaved child, so while they were arguing I decided that I would give the broom a go. I ended up riding it straight off the landing and plummeting down three flights of stairs."

"You didn't!" Hermione gasped, her hands flying up to hide her face.

"As I'm sure you can guess, Mother was not at all impressed. I believe my father still has the marks from the stinging curses she shot at him once she'd ensured I was alright."

"Alright?! You fell down three flights of stairs!"

"Yes, but Leenie- my House Elf- was quite used to having me fling myself off high surfaces just to see what would happen," he explained. "I'm pretty sure she'd cast the cushioning charms before I'd even made a break for it."

"Perhaps she should have cast a better one," Hermione frowned. "You obviously sustained a bit of head trauma at the time."

"Very funny," he pursed his lips at her. "What's a tricycle?"

* * *

"You went to school before Hogwarts?"

"Of course," Hermione nodded. "Muggles start going to school when they're four- sometimes younger. I started Nursery when I was three."

"Three years old and you went off to school?" Draco demanded. "And you thought riding a broom at three was mad!"

"Well it wasn't school like Hogwarts, I wasn't living there, and it was only half days at first."

"And what exactly did you do in school at three years old?"

"Colouring, the alphabet, how to spell our names, that sort of thing."

"So nothing of import," Draco concluded.

"I would say that learning the alphabet and how to count are rather important," Hermione argued.

"Well, yes, but couldn't you have learned those things without going to school?"

"No, that's what school is for. How did you learn those things?"

"I had tutors and my parents."

"Well, there you have it," she shrugged. "Not everyone is rich enough to have private tutors. The rest of us have to go to school."

"Where you learned to colour," he nodded condescendingly.

"I learned more than that," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It must have been a large part of your education, though," Draco reasoned. "It was the first thing you listed."

"Because you asked what I was doing in school when I was three!" she argued. "There was significantly less colouring throughout the rest of my schooling."

"Alright, no need to get testy," Draco smirked.

"Ugh! You are insufferable!"

"You've mentioned that. Now, back to the point, what exactly did you learn in muggle school?"

"Reading, writing, maths, history, social studies," she ticked the subjects off on her hands. "I don't know, normal things. What exactly did your tutors teach you?"

"Etiquette, family history, dance-"

"-Dance?" Hermione interrupted, an excited glint on her eyes.

"Yes, dance," Draco nodded proudly. "I assume your primary school didn't teach such things, it explains why you're so uncultured."

"Excuse me?!"

"I saw that monstrous act you called dancing at the Triwizard Ball, I stand by my conclusions."

"You're a prick," she shook her head, trying unreasonably hard not to laugh. "And I may not have learned which fork to use at dinner, but at least I can do basic maths!"

"So can I, and I can do it _while_ using the correct fork."

"Merlin, do you even hear yourself?" Hermione laughed hysterically. "It's like being friends with the future King of France!"

"Hey, say what you will about the aristocracy, but they had the right idea when it came to their educations," Draco shrugged.

"You realize that the French aristocracy came to an end because the people _beheaded_ the king, right?"

"The Commoners, yes," he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Oh my god, you are such an elitist!" she scoffed. "I can't believe I'm listening to this!"

"Alright, tell me, what's so great about being a commoner, then?" Draco gestured regally.

"First of all, you're as much a commoner as I am," Hermione glared. "Seeing as we don't have a monarchy in the wizarding world, and you don't fall anywhere in the line of succession to the muggle crown."

Draco waved this statement off inconsequentially, obviously not impressed by her reasoning.

"And secondly, I learned things of consequence. I didn't grow up with a head full of nonsense."

"Is that so?" he raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Tell me then, Granger, how is geometry going to help you in the rest of your life? Or algebra? And I don't even know what social studies is."

"It's the study of culture," Hermione rolled her eyes. "And I didn't learn algebra."

"My mistake."

"Alright, you're officially being annoying," she got up from the couch they'd been sitting on, shoving Draco's shoulder as she did. "I'm going to bed."

"Sweet dreams, Granger," he called jovially, laughing when she flipped him off.


	5. Chapter 4

Things went south when Draco's second attempt to kill Dumbledore resulted in Ron's being poisoned. Those were the only thing her refused to tell Hermione about- he didn't want her feeling guilty or culpable should he succeed, or worse, should he kill the wrong person.

He hadn't expected her to come to the room that night- or any night after what he'd done, but she did. She stormed through the door at half past midnight and he could see the anger radiating off of her.

"Granger, I-"

"No!" she held up a hand to silence him. "Don't speak! Don't say a single bloody word, Draco Malfoy. Because if you say the wrong thing, I might kill you here and now, so you are going to be very quiet right now, do you understand me?!"

He nodded, wringing his hands and staring at the floor miserably.

"Gods, Draco, what were you thinking?!" Hermione continued to rant, pacing back and forth in front of him. "I thought we talked about this, about how you were going to put that aside for now and just focus on the cabinet. What happened to that, huh?!"

Draco dared to glance up at her, not sure if she was actually asking, or if he was still supposed to be quiet.

"And why the fuck would you give it to Slughorn?!"

Apparently it was still quiet time.

"What could possibly make you think that he would give up an expensive bottle of Mead?! All that man cares about is how people perceive him, he keeps the best of everything for himself! You weren't thinking! Why didn't you tell me you were going to try again?! I would have helped you make sure that no one else got hurt!"

"I-"

"SHUT UP!"

Draco's mouth snapped shut

"Gods, this is a mess! Ron almost died, Draco, do you get that?! If Harry hadn't acted so quickly, he would be dead!"

"So when should I expect the Aurors?"

"Fuck you," she sneered.

"What?" he frowned at this, ignoring her order to keep quiet. "I cock up, almost kill your boyfriend who is now in the hospital wing, and you expect me to believe you didn't tell them who it was?"

"No, I didn't tell them! If I had, you wouldn't be here, would you? And do you really think after the last two months, that I would just suddenly turn my back on you? God, Draco, what kind of a person do you think I am?!"

"Nobody would blame you if you did," he shrugged. "It's not like you need to waste your time worrying about me."

"Of course I'm worried about you, you clot!" she stopped pacing and stood in front of him, hands on her hips. "You're my friend! And Ron is _not_ my boyfriend. He's made it perfectly obvious that he belongs to Lavender. Which is completely besides the point."

"So what is the point?"

"The point," Hermione shoved him angrily. "Is that you should have talked to me! That's what friends do when they have a problem, they share it with the people who care about them! They ask for help!"

"What exactly did you want me to do, Granger?" Draco demanded, his own temper rising.

"I wanted you to talk to me!"

"Yeah, because that conversation would have gone over so well," he scoffed. "Hey, Hermione, I'm going to try to murder someone again, have you got any pointers?"

"We could have thought of something else!" she insisted.

"No we couldn't have!" Draco snapped. "There was nothing else, Hermione!"

"Why?!"

"Because He knew! He knew that I wasn't completing the task, I didn't have a choice!"

All the anger he'd just been filled with left as he shouted, his arms falling helplessly to his sides, a hollow look in his eyes.

"The Dark Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting," he muttered. "He thought I needed some... persuasion."

"Draco," Hermione stepped closer, reaching for him, but he stepped back and put a hand out to keep her at bay.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, her own anger dissipating.

"You've taken on enough of my burdens," he shook his head weakly. "I couldn't involve you in this too."

"I volunteered to be involved," she argued. "I chose to be here, to help you. I can't do that if you keep things from me."

"I'm not going to implicate you in murder!" Draco cried. "I don't think friends do that either!"

"That's not the point!" she screamed. "Gods, Draco! I could have done something!"

"No, you couldn't," he shook his head, begging her to understand. "He brought Greyback to live at my house."

This silenced her immediately, her face a mix of shock and terror.

"Did he-"

"Not yet," Draco shook his head, not wanting her to say the words out loud. "Not if I made a serious attempt. So that's what I did."

He dropped into the closest chair and put his head in his hands, letting out a ragged breath.

Hermione didn't move, simply watching him for a moment, the way his shoulders shook with each breath and how his hands tugged at his hair. It was like the last two months hadn't even happened, like she had just stumbled into the room for the first time again.

"Draco," she sighed anxiously and knelt in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry about?" he laughed, though there was nothing funny about the situation. "I'm the one who almost killed someone- again."

"I'm sorry that you've been keeping all this in. I wish you had told me."

"I'm glad I didn't. I know that you want to help, but I can't let you- not with this."

They sat quietly for a long time after that, Draco with his head in his hands, Hermione kneeling in front of him, studying him closely.

"Is Weaselbee okay?"

"That's not his name," Hermione chastised, though there was a mocking tone to her words. "But yes, he's going to be fine."

"Good," he nodded. "That's good. I really didn't mean to hurt him- or anyone."

"I know," she squeezed his knee reassuringly. "I know you didn't."


	6. Chapter 5

In the weeks following Ron's poisoning, Draco had started tiptoeing around Hermione once again, not wanting to anger her or give her a reason to hate him more than he was already convinced she did. Hermione on the other hand was having none of this and began pushing all the boundaries they had silently agreed to in the previous months- if Draco didn't know any better, he'd have thought she was flirting with him. That was ridiculous, though, because she was Hermione Granger. Even if she had decided that they were going to be friends, she certainly didn't have romantic feelings for him. She was so far out of Draco's league, the thought was laughable, but that wasn't going to stop him from copying her behaviour- a little innocent flirting never hurt anyone, after all.

"I got you a present," Hermione announced, skipping into the room under Harry's invisibility cloak.

"You don't even know how creepy it is when you speak before you take that damn cloak off," Draco huffed, trying to figure out where her voice was coming from.

"Trust me, I'm perfectly aware," she laughed, slowly appearing in the exact opposite corner that he had been watching. "It's worse when it's a floating head."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Good call. Now, like I said, I brought you a present," Hermione handed him a package wrapped in plain brown paper.

"What is it?" Draco asked, turning that package over in his hands.

"It's a paper bag," she rolled her eyes. "Hope you like it!"

Draco's lips pressed together into a thin line, his eyebrows raised in annoyance.

Hermione waved at him to hurry up and open it, turning her attention to the runes she had started working on the night before.

"Huh, its a journal," Draco nodded appreciatively, turning the book over in his hands.

"Mmhm."

"It's a very nice journal," he continued.

It was bound in a beautiful Slytherin green leather and engraved with his initials.

" _Thank you, Hermione, for this lovely gift._ " Hermione said sarcastically.

"Yes, of course, thank you," he joined her at the cabinet. "I'm just wondering why?"

"Because that's what friends do."

Draco leaned against the cabinet with his arms crossed, giving her a disbelieving look. Hermione did her best to ignore him, but every second that she pretended he wasn't there, he inched closer.

"Hovering is going to get you nowhere," she chewed her lip, trying not to smile.

Draco only inched closer in response, not making any attempts to hide his own smile.

"Come on, Granger. What's with the notebook? You want to pass dirty notes back and forth?"

"I do not pass dirty notes," Hermione scoffed.

"That's just because you haven't found someone to pass them with," he said suggestively.

"Draco Malfoy, I am not above hexing you."

"Oh, I know," he smirked, slowly stroking her arm with one finger.

"If you must know," Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, still trying not to smile. "I _did_ get you the notebook so we could pass notes- but if said notes are in any way filthy, I _will_ hex you."

"See, I knew you'd break!" Draco took a step back, grinning victoriously

"I'll take it back if you're going to be like that," she reached for the journal, but Draco held it above his head.

"Ah, ah, ah. It's bad form to take a present back."

"Not when the gift recipient is acting like a child," she argued. "In that case, the responsible adult in the room has the right to take said gift away."

"And who said that you were the responsible adult?"

"Well it's certainly not you! Now, would you like me to explain the intricate and exceptional magic that I've imbued that lovely journal with, or would you like to continue being a child?"

"Hmm..." Draco pretended to think for a minute.

"You know what, now I'm not going to tell you."

"No, no, no, wait! I want to know about the magic!"

"Sorry," Hermione shrugged. "Snooze you loose."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a muggle saying, and you understood what I meant perfectly. Now help me correct these runes."

"But-"

"I will do it by myself and I will take it to the noseless wonder myself," she threatened.

"Noseless wonder?" Draco snorted.

"It was the first thing that popped into my head," she shrugged.

"We need to work on your insults, Granger."

"No, we _need_ to work on this cabinet."

"It's waited this long, it'll keep another hour," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and steering her towards one of the many sofas in the room. "Now, tell me about this incredible magic journal."

"Make it worth my time," she challenged.

"I brought you an eclair," he summoned a container.

Hermione studied him for a moment, not completely buying what he was selling, then snatched the container from his hand and took a bite of the chocolate covered pastry, humming in satisfaction.

"Okay, that's worth it," she agreed. "That particularly lovely journal in your hand has a twin, which allows communication between the two."

"So you _do_ want to pass dirty notes," Draco smirked.

"No, but you obviously do."

"I'm just reading between the lines."

"You're in a completely different book," Hermione scoffed. "Now, can we please get back to work?"

"Not yet," he shook his head. "You say this has a twin? Does that mean that you have an equally beautiful red leather notebook?"

"No, I'm not stupid," she rolled her eyes. "Mine looks like every other notebook I've ever used. You're too much of a drama queen to have something so plain, though."

"How well you know me," Draco smiled. "So, what? I just scribble something in here and it magically appears in your book?"

"In the simplest of terms, yes."

"The simplest of terms? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm using small words so that you'll understand," Hermione patted his knee and got to her feet, ignoring his protests that he was just as smart as she was.

* * *

Their note passing started in double Arithmancy the next week, when Hermione noticed Draco falling asleep across the aisle from her.

 _Last I checked, sleeping through classes wasn't the best way to achieve passing grades_

As soon as the words appeared in front of him, Draco sat up a little straighter and did his best to hide his smirk.

 **I was simply resting my eyes**

 _Sure you were Malfoy_

 **Well keep me awake then, Granger.**

 _Excuse me?_

 **Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm not being suggestive. Not like that at least, I'm suggesting a game.**

 _You're always being suggestive. Desert Island?_

 **Would You Rather**

 _On you go, then_

 **Would you rather have bright blue teeth, or bright blue hair?**

 _Hair, obviously. It's the latest fad_

 **Maybe if you're a Weasley**

 _Would you rather jump into a pool of marshmallows or a pool of jell-o?_

 **What in Merlin's name is jell-o?!**

 _Oh, you poor little wizard boy. Jell-o is one of muggle-kinds most disgusting and delicious inventions_

 **Those are not selling points Granger!**

 _Of course they are, you've just had a silver spoon shoved in your mouth since birth and don't know what the best things in life really are._

 **You try saying that after you've tried caviar.**

 _God, you're a snob!_

 **I'm well aware. Would you rather snog Potter or Weasley?**

 _A Weasley, no questions asked._

Hermione smiled to herself as she heard Draco choke at her answer, trying to disguise it with a cough.

 _I didn't specify which Weasley, so you can wipe that self satisfied smirk off your face_

 **I am not smirking**

 _You're smirking on the inside, I know you._

 **That you do, Granger. So, how about you get specific- which Weasley?**

 _You don't seem eager to learn the answer to that at all_

 **Sarcasm doesn't become you Granger.**

 _Yes it does._

 **Don't avoid the question. Which Weasley are you planning to drag into a broom closet?**

 _Have you ever seen the eldest brothers? I'd take any of them- Ginny's not bad either._

Another series of coughs told Hermione that she had done more than entertained Malfoy, so she closed her notebook with a victorious smirk on her face and turned her attention back to the lesson, leaving Draco to squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

 **A/N: Dum dee dum, nothing to see here, just some useless fluff. I'm having such a hard time formatting this story, putting all my ideas in an order that makes sense and such. Let me know what you think so far :)**


	7. Chapter 6

"You never talk about your parents," Draco pointed out one night before Easter holidays. "You've told me all about your childhood and going to school and getting your letter, and I've told you all about my life before now, but you never mention your parents."

"I've mentioned them," Hermione shrugged.

"In passing," Draco allowed. "But not really. I don't even know their names."

He waited for her to explain, to give him a long-winded tale of how they had met and what they did for a living, but he was met with silence. When he looked over he saw the she had frozen mid-spell, her wand hanging limply in her hand.

"You alright?" he asked, taking a step towards her.

Hermione shook her head quickly, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was thinking, we should try to get into the restricted section and see if there's anything that might help us. Do you think Snape would give you a permission slip?"

"Uh, I don't know," Draco frowned, confused by the sudden subject change. "Probably, but if I go to him he'll tell the Dark Lord."

"Right, of course. I'll see about getting a slip from McGonagall, I'll tell her I'm getting a jump start on NEWTs."

She didn't say much for the rest of the night, knocking down Draco's repeated attempts to start a conversation.

Of course when they'd first started talking, Draco had thought it would be awkward, but that hadn't been the case at all. The more they talked, the more he wanted to talk to her, Draco wanted to tell her everything about his life. They had even talked about how easy it was to talk to each other, but now Hermione was silent and Draco was worried.

In the week that followed he talked about his family as much as he could, trying to get Hermione to share information about her own family. She never told him to stop or even raised her voice, but she never shared more than a passing mention of her parents either and the longer this went on, the more worried Draco became.

* * *

They had hit a wall with the cabinet one night and decided to take a break. Draco summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey from the stash he kept in the room and took a swig, then offered it to Hermione, a teasing look in his eyes.

"What, you don't think I'll take it?"

"I want to say no, but you've been known to surprise me," he shrugged.

She smirked and snatched the bottle from him, putting it to her lips and taking a sip, her eyes never leaving his.

"If only your Gryffindor lapdogs could see you now," Draco smirked.

"They'd say you imperioused me," she laughed. "I'm not entirely sure they'd be wrong, either."

"Forget it, Granger, I take no responsibility for your reckless behaviour."

"How very un-Malfoy of you," Hermione quipped, taking another swig of whiskey and wincing as it burned her throat.

"Alright, no need to hog the bottle," Draco frowned, holding his hand out expectantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and passed it over, leaning back against a sofa and staring up at the ceiling.

"So, do muggles have drinking games?" he asked, moving over to sit beside her.

"Sure, tons of them."

"Care to play one?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Malfoy?" she asked, not looking away from the ceiling.

"Of course not, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly."

Hermione let out a snort of laughter at this,turning her head to look at him. "Name your game."

"I'll tell you a deep dark secret, you tell me one."

"That's not a game," she pointed out. "It's what we've been doing for months."

"Sure it is, you're just not in the right mood," Draco waved her off. "Not to worry, we'll soon fix that."

"Uh huh," she rolled her eyes. "And where does the drinking come in?"

"Wherever we so choose. I'll go first... I wet the bed my first night at Hogwarts."

"No!" Hermione gasped, sitting up and covering her mouth with her hands, trying to hide her smile.

"Yes," Draco nodded, his usually pale face exceptionally red. "And you are the only person in the world who knows that, so if it suddenly starts making the rounds, I'll be coming for you."

"As if anyone would believe me," she laughed.

"Very true. Alright, your turn."

"You already know all my secrets. I'm not exactly interesting."

"You're selling yourself short," Draco chuckled. "Come on, what's that thing you're always saying? Sharing is caring?"

Hermione pursed her lips and held her hand out for the bottle, which Draco was more than happy to hand over.

"Deepest and darkest?" she confirmed.

"Don't hold back."

"I lost my virginity to Victor Krum the summer after fourth year," she said quickly, each word slurring into the next, then took a deep drink.

"Wow!" Draco gaped at her. "Not where I saw this going."

"Why, you thought I was still a virgin?"

"I honestly never thought about it," he shook his head. "Like I said, I'm a gentleman."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that point. Your turn."

"I lost my virginity to Daphne Greengrass in fifth year."

"That's not a secret," Hermione shook her head. "She might as well have put it on the front cover of the Prophet."

"Fine," Draco pursed his lips in annoyance. "What secret do you want?"

She thought for a moment, humming quietly. "Who was your first kiss?"

Draco's blush deepened even further, if possible, and he snatched the bottle from her hands.

"Oh, so I have found something deep and dark," Hermione smiled. "Come on, was it someone truly dreadful? Pansy? No, you like her... Oh! It wasn't Snape, was it?!"

"Snape?!" he spluttered, choking on his drink. "Salazar's balls, no! If you must know, it was Theo."

"Theo? As in, Theodore Nott?"

"That's him," Draco huffed. "We were six years old, and he was the one that initiated it, before you ask."

"I wasn't going to, but I appreciate the information," she giggled.

"Snape," Draco grimaced and took another drink. "I love the man, he's a great Godfather, but.."

An involuntary shudder passed through him, making Hermione laugh even harder.

"Who was _your_ first kiss then?!" he demanded.

"George Weasley, under some mistletoe second year," she offered without blinking. "Not at all embarrassing, and not bad considering how handsome he is now."

"Well,never let it be said Hermione Granger doesn't have a type," Draco rolled his eyes.

"And what exactly do you think my type is?" she demanded.

"Weasleys."

"How many times do I have to say it, I do not have a crush on Ronald!" she elbowed him in the ribs sharply and took the bottle back.

"Ah, but you did," he argued, snatching it away just as it reached her lips. "And you've now admitted to kissing another Weasley, and wishing you could snog three more of them. You have a type."

"It's your turn," Hermione pursed her lips, knowing she couldn't argue with his reasoning.

"Give me a second, I'm running out of good material," Draco frowned for a moment, then stood and took off his robes and his shirt, revealing a collection of scars across his back and significantly sobering his drinking partner. "Courtesy of Lucius Malfoy."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, reaching a hand out to trace the raised marks, but stopping herself.

"It can't be that much of a surprise," he shrugged. "I'm sure everyone expects it."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"No, but it makes it easier to tell."

"Who else knows?" Hermione asked, watching closely as he pulled his shirt back over his head.

"Theo, Blaise, Daphne, maybe a few others. It's not exactly uncommon in our world."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, shaking her head. "I can't imagine what it's like having a parent that would be horrid enough to harm their child."

"All sunshine and rainbows in the Granger household, was it?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't say that, but my father never raised a hand to me."

Draco nodded solemnly, letting his confession hang in the air between them. He had dropped the parental bombshell, now it was her turn and maybe if he didn't push she would tell him what exactly was going on.

"Just say it," she finally broke the silence, staring at the ceiling once again. "We both know you want to- you've been hedging for weeks."

"Why do you never talk about your parents?" he asked, watching her profile closely.

She didn't answer at first, simply continued to study the rafters above their heads, taking the bottle when Draco offered it and sipping from it slowly. A single tear escaped the corner of her eye, and Draco almost reached out to wipe it away, but decided it would be best not to disturb the stillness that surrounded them.

"My mother's name was Jean," Hermione whispered, almost to herself. "She had grey eyes and hair like mine, but she always seemed to tame it into the loveliest curls. She was beautiful. She loved to read, mostly historical fictions but she'd take anything really."

Draco didn't say a word in response, studying her as she spoke, taking note of every twitch, every breath. Telling him this was killing her, and he felt ashamed of himself for pushing, but then he noted the way her shoulders seemed to start relaxing and he realized that as much as it hurt, she _needed_ to tell him- just as he'd needed to tell her about Voldemort all those months ago.

"She and my father were both dentists. They met in school and got married after University. They hadn't planned on having children, they were going to move to Australia and start their own practice, but my mother found out she was pregnant a few months after the wedding so they stayed."

A few more tears slipped from her eyes, but she was quick to brush them away.

"They were good parents, even if they didn't want to be at first," she smiled sadly. "They did their best, they accepted that I was a witch and they tried to understand what I was talking about whenever I came home. They did their best."

"Past tense," Draco finally spoke up.

"Past tense," she nodded, taking a sip of whiskey. "Jean and William Granger no longer exist."

"What do you mean they don't exist?" he asked tentatively.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself to say it out loud for the first time.

"I went home for Christmas this year- I hadn't the last few years, I'd spent all my time with Harry and Ron and I knew it wasn't fair to my parents, but it was just so much easier being with the boys than it was pretending everything was the same as it had always been. My parents knew that something was wrong, they could tell that I wasn't enjoying myself and started asking questions. I'd never told them about what was going on in our world- not about the first war, or Voldemort's return, or how much danger I was really in as Harry Potter's best friend- so I sat them down and told them everything," she paused, taking a sharp breath. "They were horrified. They said the wizarding world was barbaric and I would never be going back. I always knew that they would react like that when the time came, though, so I sat there and took all their anger and threats until my mother went to write a letter to Dumbledore telling him that I wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts after the holidays."

Without really thinking about it, Draco reached out and put his hand on her knee, giving it an encouraging squeeze and Hermione froze. He was about to take his hand away, since she was obviously uncomfortable with it, when she put her own over it and squeezed tightly.

"I knew that I would have to do it eventually, that it would end up this way. I thought I was prepared-" her voice caught as she stifled a sob.

"Knew you'd have to do what eventually?" Draco asked.

"My birthday is early in the school year, September 19, so I had already lost the trace. Mum's back was turned, she didn't see me pull my wand and Dad was still shouting about how disappointed he was in me, how angry he was that I had lied to them for so long... I cast the spell and it was like they were frozen in time, like I was in a dream and had somehow pressed pause-"

She stopped again, this time allowing her sobs to be heard, and covered her face with her hands.

"It's alright," Draco patted her shoulder awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do.

"They'll never forgive me," Hermione choked. "It was the last time I'll ever see them, and they were so angry with me!"

"What do you mean it was the last time?"

"I had to do it," she looked at him for the first time in what seemed like hours, a desperate look in her eyes. "You have to believe me, Draco, I had no other choice. It's the only way I could keep them safe."

"What was the only way?" he asked again, trying to keep his voice calm and steady in comparison to her panicked tone.

"I obliviated them."

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she broke down completely, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face in them, her entire body convulsing as she sobbed. Draco could hear her trying to speak through the sobs, but it took him a moment to figure out what exactly she was saying- 'it was my only choice'.

Without hesitation, he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on the top of her head. He knew exactly what she was feeling- what it meant to do something so heartbreaking because you had no other choice- and while he also knew that there was nothing he could do or say to make her feel better it wasn't going to stop him from trying.

"It's alright," he hummed, holding her tightly. "It's alright, I know."

"It was the only way, Draco," she looked up at him, her voice cracking from all the crying. "I had to save them-"

"I know," he promised, meeting her eyes. "I know you did. It's okay."

This reaction seemed to shock her, as though she'd expected him to reprimand her, to shout and tell her that she was an idiot, a criminal- after all, that's what she'd been telling herself for the last three months.

"You did nothing wrong, Hermione," Draco insisted. "All you did was try to protect them."

"I took their lives from them," she shook her head. "I took everything they'd ever known."

"You _gave_ them their lives," he argued.

"The life they always wanted," Hermione gave him a rueful smile, her eyes eerily hollow. "They've gone to Australia to start their own practice, no children to keep them from doing what they want."

"Hermione, your parents love you, you said it yourself."

"They did," she nodded. "But that was then and this is now. Now, they've no idea who I am- no idea that I ruined the first seventeen years of their marriage."

"Hermione!" Draco snapped, immediately regretting it when she jumped away from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to snap, I just can't stand to hear you say something like that about yourself. Nobody in their right mind could ever think that you ruined their lives. Your parents didn't think that."

"You never even met them," she sneered, staring at her hands in her lap.

"No, but I saw them," he inched closer to her. "In Diagon Alley, before the start of Second Year and when they came to drop you off at the train, I saw the way they looked at you. Hermione, they didn't resent you, they were proud of you- as they should be."

"You don't know that."

"I _do_ ," he insisted, covering her hands with his own. "I know what resentment looks like in a parent's eyes, I saw it in my father's every day, and it's nothing like the way your parents looked at you. They loved you so much- _love_ you."

"Not at the end," she muttered.

"Yes at the end," Draco insisted. "They were upset because you were in danger. They were trying to protect you as much as you were trying to protect them- that's what love is."

His words echoed through the silence of the room, hanging in the air like a knut at the beginning of a Quidditch match, it's outcome subject to fate. He waited for Hermione to say something, to argue with him, to agree with him, to cry some more even, but she was silent. The whiskey they had consumed seemed to dissipate all at once, as though a sobering potion had been poured down their throats and Draco was aware of every intricate detail of the hour that followed, her continued silence echoing through the room, only interrupted by the sound of his own heartbeat.

Eventually, Hermione got to her feet and left the room, presumably to return to her dorm, though she remained silent even when he called after her.


	8. Chapter 7

Hermione couldn't help but realize that their friendship was turning into something more. What had previously been a relationship based mostly on arguments and sarcasm, was becoming a relationship that consisted of flirting and playful banter, as well as deep and meaningful conversations about their lives. Draco was the only one who knew about her parents, and though she had completely ignored the topic ever since the night she told him, pretending that absolutely nothing had happened, she knew that he cared that she was hurting- and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that she cared about him. Just last week she'd almost ruined her Draught of Living Death because she was more focused on how exhausted he looked than she was on her ingredients. When she got grades back, he was the first person she wanted to tell, and when she found a book that was worth reading, she couldn't wait to pass it on to him. She shared things with him that she had never even dreamt of telling Harry or Ron, and she couldn't imagine not telling him. Beyond all that, she saw the way he watched her when they worked, or from across the Great Hall at meals. She read between the lines when they exchanged notes and she heard the way he said her name when his guard was down- like a prayer. So the night that he admitted to his feelings, sitting on the floor in the Room of Requirement drinking Butterbeer with her, Hermione was ready to bat down all the arguments she knew he would have as to why they couldn't be together and convince him otherwise.

* * *

"I just don't understand how you can look so enthralled during History of Magic," Draco argued. "There is absolutely nothing interesting said in that class, and nothing that can't be learned in books we both know you read back in first year."

"I'm well aware of that," Hermione laughed. "I'll have you know that I look so enthralled because I get more than enough practice pretending to look interested when Harry and Ron talk about Quidditch."

"So Miss Prefect isn't as perfect as she seems," Draco smirked. "Tell me then, what is it that you daydream about while dear Professor Binns drones on about Goblin Rebellions?"

"Usually whatever we were doing in the previous class," she shrugged. "Or what we'll be doing in the next one."

"Merlin, that's dull!" he cried. "Come on, Granger, you're not really that boring. We have a deal: 'deepest darkest secrets'. Out with it!"

"I'm telling the truth," she laughed. "I don't like to daydream, it distracts from my studies."

"Everyone daydreams. Come on, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making Hermione laugh even more, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"If you're so desperate to share your daydreams Malfoy, don't let me stop you," she waved him on. "What does the great Draco Malfoy dream about when he should be listening to his professors, hm?"

"You," he said seriously. "When I'm supposed to be paying attention in class, I dream about you, Hermione Jean Granger."

He held her gaze as he spoke, not a hint of humour in his eyes, then looked down at his hands nervously. "How's that for deepest, darkest secrets?"

"Pretty damn good," Hermione said quietly, studying him. "I almost believe you."

"Good, because I'm telling the truth."

He got to his feet and made his way back over to the cabinet, taking out his wand and muttering a few spells, pointedly ignoring her. Her eyes never left him, though, she had no doubts that he was telling the truth.

"Are you going to stare at me for the rest of the evening, or are you actually going to help?" his gruff tone shook her from her reverie and Hermione found herself smiling.

She couldn't put her finger on exactly when it had happened, but it had. She had fallen for Draco Malfoy and now she sat staring at the blond man's back and she realized that he was her best friend- and sweet Merlin, she wanted to jump his bones.

"Are you even listening to me?" he snapped, finally turning around. "What? What is that ridiculous look on your face? Yes, I know, I admitted that I have feelings for you, but that was bound to happen when we're spending so much time together, and it's a stressful situation and you can hardly blame me. I'm sure that they will pass, given time, and I certainly don't expect you to return them in any way, nor do I plan to act on them because that would be even stupider than you offering to help me in the first place. So will you please stop staring and come help me get this damn box to work so that we can get on with our lives not die?!"

Hermione watched him throughout this entire outburst with a smile on her face. He was embarrassed, and trying to overcompensate, and it was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

"Stop looking at me like that," he hissed.

"Stop snapping at me," she chided, approaching him slowly. "You know, this is your problem Malfoy, you say things and then you don't give anyone any time to think about what you've said before you get yourself in a huff. It really draws from your more attractive qualities."

"Well I'll keep that in mind in the future," he rolled his eyes. "Now, are you going to help me or not."

"That depends on what you want help with," Hermione shrugged.

"What do you mean, it depends?" he demanded. "I want your help with this damn cabinet. We've been trying to fix it for four months now! Honestly Granger, how dense are you?!"

"Not as dense as you are. Because if you had told any other witch what you just told me, they probably would have left a hole in the wall on their way out, you'll notice I'm still here."

"Yes, I see that. You're a far better person than anyone else, though, and you wouldn't dream of running out on a bloke, just because you don't return his feelings."

"While that may be true," Hermione allowed, "it's not the reason I'm standing here now and you know it."

Draco's hands stilled mid-spell, resulting in a few sparks flying from his wand in protest, but he didn't seem to notice.

Ever so slowly, he turned on the spot, dropping his wand to his side and studying the petite brunette in front of him. Her eyes were bright, her lips pressed together in a thin line of agitation- though he knew that she was suppressing a smile- her arms were crossed over her chest and she was standing closer to him than she normally would, her breath mingling with his own as she matched his stare, brow raised in challenge.

"Well, Granger," he cleared his throat, suddenly unsure as to whether or not his voice was actually working. "I told you mine. What is it you daydream about?"

"You," she smirked. "I dream about you. How's _that_ for deepest, darkest secrets?"

"Pretty fucking brilliant," he breathed, smiling so brightly he thought his face might actually split in two.

And then his arm was around her waist, and his hand was cupping her cheek and his lips were pressing against hers, just lightly enough that she wasn't sure if she was daydreaming right then. But then her hands snaked into his hair and her body pressed against his and everything melted into the most wonderful haze.

When the elation of the moment had worn off, though, Draco pushed her away and begun listing all the reasons they couldn't do this- most of which revolved around the fact that it would probably get them killed.

Hermione let him talk, sitting comfortably on a sofa and watching as he paced back and forth in front of her. He had plenty of reasons- some of them were even legitimate- but the longer he talked, the more convinced she became that she didn't give a flying fuck about any of them.

"Are you done?" she interrupted him after a while, as calm as could be.

"No, I'm not done!" Draco scoffed. "This is a terrible idea and-"

"You're done." Hermione interrupted again, getting up and putting her hand over his mouth.

"It's my turn to talk now, because this," she gestured between the two of them, "is something and I'm not going to let you push me away, just like I haven't let you push me away every other time you've tried this year. I care about you Draco, and I want to be with you- I _need_ to be with you and I think it's pretty obvious that you need me too."

How right she was, Draco thought, but that didn't change the fact that they couldn't be together. They were star-crossed.

"Like that Muggle play, Romeo and Juliet," he argued. "It doesn't matter how we feel, this is going to end in death."

"Romeo and Juliet can go fuck themselves," Hermione spat, and then her lips were on his and Draco couldn't have done a thing to stop her- even if he'd wanted to.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Gonna be honest with you guys, this is nothing but 500 words worth of shameless fluff. Enjoy!**

"This is a bad idea," Draco whispered.

"Well we ran out of good ideas a while back, so this is what we're left with," Hermione hissed.

They were huddled together under Harry's invisibility cloak, sneaking through the corridors towards the library.

"This is how you got that ruddy dragon out in first year, isn't it?!"

"Yes, and you know why we didn't get caught? Because we were quiet!" she pinched him sharply.

"Ouch!"

"SHH!"

They froze and pressed themselves against the wall as Mrs. Norris rounded the corner, her glowing eyes seemingly looking straight through them.

Hermione felt Draco start to open his mouth and she dug her nails into his arm again. When the cat had moved on, he let out a sharp breath.

"Would you stop doing that?!" he snapped.

"I could feel you were about to say something," she defended herself. "Now we have to get moving. I swear, that cat can see through the cloak."

"You seem to know quite a bit about sneaking through the corridors after hours," Draco pointed out. "Especially for a prefect who has docked more than a few house points from students for being out after curfew."

"Well someone has to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble," she shrugged. "Now, for the love of Merlin, will you shut up?!"

She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was smirking.

When they finally made it to the library, they snuck into the restricted section and removed the cloak, lighting their wands so they could see.

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Draco asked, scanning the shelves.

"Anything you think might help," Hermione shrugged.

"Seriously?" he turned and looked down at her, arms crossed. " _That's_ your plan?"

"I don't hear you offering any better suggestions," she challenged. "And stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Towering over me like that," she snapped, glaring up at him.

"I can't help it that you're so short," Draco smirked, taking a step closer.

"I'm not short, I'm average," she stood her ground, hands on her hips.

"You're short," he argued, bending his head so that their lips were almost touching, his hands brushing down her arms slowly.

"Bite me," Hermione grumbled, trying as best she could to keep her expression neutral.

She wasn't able to keep this up for long, however, as Draco took her suggestion at face value, ducking his head and nipping at her shoulder.

"Oh!" she jumped, as he soothed the area with his tongue. "I didn't mean literally!"

"Sorry, you should have been more specific," he smirked. "Now we're even."

"We're supposed to be looking for books," Hermione whispered, trying weakly to refocus him.

"I'm not stopping you," Draco mumbled, nuzzling her neck.

Hermione scoffed at this, though the smile on her lips betrayed her true feelings.

By the time they got around to actually looking at the books they would need, it was well past two in the morning, but they found what they needed and made their way back to the cabinet to try their latest theory, shutting an apple inside when they'd finished.

The next night, the apple had a bite in it.


	10. Chapter 9

As May came to a close, they still hadn't been able to fix the cabinet so that living things could pass through it. Every night, no matter what they tried, the canaries they sent through came back dead. Hermione had been on her way to the library to take another pass at the restricted section when she heard Myrtle shrieking. Following the ghost's screams, she found herself in a demolished bathroom on the sixth floor, far from Myrtle's usual toilet.

"Myrtle, be quiet!" she scolded, taking in the blood and water all over the floor in confusion. "What happened?"

"Oh, it was horrible! Horrible!" Myrtle wailed. "He was just trying to pull himself together and that horrible Potter boy cursed him. He's dead! He's dead!"

Hermione felt the air rush from her lungs and her heart plummet into her stomach. "Myrtle what do you mean, 'he's dead'? _Who's_ dead?"

"Draco!" Myrtle sobbed. "Draco's dead! And he was the only one who was ever nice to me. He came to my bathroom all the time- you don't even visit anymore!"

She continued to sob and complain, but Hermione wasn't listening. At the mere mention of Draco, she'd taken off at a sprint.

He wasn't- he couldn't be. If he were, she would know, she would have felt it the same way she could always feel when Harry was in a particularly dangerous situation. If nothing else, the professors would have been flooding the castle, there would be Aurors and Medi-Wizards and chaos. None of that was happening, so he couldn't be dead.

"OI! No running in the corridors!" Filch grumbled as she rushed past him, but she paid him no mind. All she cared about was getting to the hospital wing and making sure that Draco was alright.

She didn't even pause when she got to the doors, shoving them open with so much force that the entire room shook as they hit the wall.

"What in- Miss Granger!" Madame Pomfrey stepped out from behind a curtain to scold her. "What in Merlin's name are you doing making such a racket?!"

"I- uh," Hermione looked around desperately, grasping for any excuse as to why she would be storming the hospital wing, since her relationship with Draco was a secret. "I-I heard Myrtle screaming about a student being injured and I've been trying to study up on my healing spells, so I thought I might offer some help."

"That's very kind of you," the matron allowed. "But I have everything under control here."

"So no one was injured?" Hermione asked, willing her tone to sound far less desperate than she felt.

"Oh, someone is always injured," Madame Pomfrey smiled reassuringly. "But no more so today than any other day. I appreciate your offer, though. You feel free to come up anytime you wish to practice."

"Well, you know what they say," Hermione pressed. "There's no time like the present."

"Normally, I would agree with you, but I'm afraid I'm rather busy today," the matron's smile became tight and obviously forced, her tone no longer conveying appreciation. "Now, unless you yourself have any injuries..."

She stared blatantly at the doors through which Hermione had burst only moments before, her expression making it clear that this was not a request but an order.

With one final look towards the curtained bed, Hermione turned and let herself out doing her best to hide her worried tears and shaking hands.

* * *

When Harry explained what had happened, it took every ounce of strength Hermione had not to hex him black and blue as she lectured him about how utterly stupid he had been. She only managed to control herself for a few minutes before storming out of the portrait hole, ignoring Ron and Harry's calls for her to come back and stop overreacting.

Keeping her head down, she made her way to the Room of Requirement as quickly as she could and begged for the door to appear before her tears spilled over. When she was safely inside the Room of Hidden Things she slumped against the door, put up a silencing ward and screamed screamed. She screamed as loud and as long as she could, and when she couldn't scream anymore she sobbed. She didn't know how long she sat against the door, but she figured it must have been at least an hour because her legs were asleep and her throat felt like it was on fire. Getting to her feet, she caught a glimpse of herself in an old mirror and winced. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was streaked with tears, her hair had come loose from the bun she had put it in earlier and was falling out all over, made worse by the fact that she had been pulling at it. In short, she looked like a mess- and she was. Her boyfriend had almost been killed by her best friend, she had no idea if he was okay and she couldn't see him and find out. All she could do was wait and pray to whoever was listening that he would come find her as soon as he could, and while she waited she paced.

She paced for hours, desperately trying to make her brain stop spinning horror story after horror story, and when pacing wasn't enough to keep her anxiety at bay she started to organize. Starting at the front of the room and working her way back, pile by pile, she sifted through and organized each and every pile of forgotten objects. She made dozens of living room displays with all the furniture, created a small library and liberated an unholy number of magical creatures- including a rather vapid pixie that presumably found its way to the room during Professor Lockhart's tenure in second year. Pile by pile, hour by hour, she didn't stop until the door opened.

* * *

"Granger?" Draco called tentatively, taking in the room's newly found state of order. "Hermione, are you in here?"

"Oh, thank Godric!" Hermione came hurtling out from behind a stack of carpets and threw her arms around him, knocking him off balance onto a sofa. Draco pulled her down with him as he fell and let out a pained gasp as she landed against his chest.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Hermione demanded, clamouring off his lap and examining him for injuries, her hands shaking.

"I'm alright," he groaned, covering her hands with his own. "I'm fine, Granger."

"No you're not," she shook her head quickly. "You are the exact fucking opposite of alright and if you try to tell me you aren't, I will kill you myself Draco Malfoy. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal," he smirked.

"Do not smirk at me like that," Hermione seethed.

"Sorry," Draco tried to school his expression. "Really though, I'm alright. I've got some brilliant new scars, but that's all. Come here."

He sat up and pulled her down to sit with him instead of hovering anxiously.

"Love, how long have you been in here?" Draco asked, taking in the aggressively clean room they were in.

"I don't know," she shrugged, resting her head against his shoulder. "I just hoped you would come down eventually."

He could tell by her tone and the way that she refused to meet his eyes that something was bothering her- something more than the fact that he'd been hurt and she spent hours panicking.

"Hermione?" He pushed her away slightly and reached out to stroke her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear and frowned when he realized that she was moments away from bursting into tears. "What is it, love? Talk to me."

"Myrtle," she started to explain, then shook her head and started to pull away.

"What about Myrtle?" Draco took her hand.

"I-I was on my way to the library and I heard her screeching, so I went to investigate," she paused and took a ragged breath, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.

"Hermione, what did Myrtle do?" he asked gently, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"She said you were dead."

Draco's heart stopped as he watched Hermione's lower lip begin to tremble and a few tears slip from the corners of her eyes.

"She said that Harry had killed you!" A strangled sob escaped her and she quickly put her hands over her mouth in an attempt to silence herself.

"Hey, I'm fine!" Draco insisted, pulling her into a hug. "Nothing a couple counter-spells and a healing potion or two couldn't fix."

"I didn't know what else to do, so I started running for the hospital wing," she continued after a minute, her voice muffled by his shirt. "I was so scared, Draco."

"That was you?" he smirked, sitting back a bit so he could see her, one hand cupping her face. "You were the one making all that racket in the hospital wing?"

Hermione nodded shyly and he began to laugh.

"I thought someone had been attacked by a Hippogriff or something, the way you came storming through those doors!"

"You're the only idiot around here who gets attacked by Hippogriffs," she huffed, wiping her eyes.

"What exactly did you tell Madame Pomfrey about why you were storming her hospital?"

"I told her that I was interested in improving my healing skills, and had heard there was an injury of some sorts that I might be able to assist her with."

"And she believed you?"

"I don't think so," Hermione allowed herself to smile. "But she didn't call me on it."

"Poppy won't say anything," Draco shrugged. "She's a good old bird."

"I'm sure she'd be pleased to hear you say so. Are you really alright?"

"I promise," Draco nodded, resting his forehead against hers.

He could tell by the look she was giving him that she didn't believe this for a second, however, so with far too many dramatics he sat up and pulled his robes off, then gestured for her to help him with his shirt. He wasn't prepared for the broken gasp that she let out upon seeing his injuries, however, and he winced at the look on her face.

"It's far worse than it looks-"

"Draco!" Hermione's voice caught in her throat as she took in the angry red scars that covered his chest, stomach and shoulders- remnants of the deep gashes that had been there only hours before. "God, if Snape hadn't been there-"

"But he was," he knelt and took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "He was there, and he healed me, and now I'll be good as new in a couple days. I swear."

As was her habit when she was nervous or uncertain, Hermione began to gnaw at her bottom lip while her fingers traced the marks on his chest lightly.

"Do you want me to make a wizard oath?" Draco offered. "Because I will."

"Don't be stupid," she chided him.

"Well, you still seem worried when there's nothing to worry about," he reasoned.

"Nothing to worry about," she scoffed. "You're a bloody idiot."

"You've pointed it out once or twice," he smiled before kissing her soundly. "I promise, I will be in perfect health by tomorrow. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

"That's because Poppy gave you pain potions," Hermione frowned. "What about when they wear off?"

"I will take another one," he said obviously. "Now, would you mind putting _my_ mind at ease and sitting here quietly while I sneak down to the kitchens and get you something to eat?"

"I'm fine, you're the one who should be sitting," she shook her head adamantly, pulling Draco back onto the couch and fussing with the cushions.

"Hermione, it's past 10, you've been here for hours and you haven't had anything to eat or drink," he grabbed her wrists to still her. "You can't fuss over me if you pass out from dehydration."

"Fine," she huffed, her lips pressing together in the most adorable pout Draco had ever seen. "But you will sit here and _I_ will sneak down to the kitchens, okay?"

"Fine. As long as you're eating something," Draco conceded.

Hermione smiled softly and turned to leave, then seemed to think better of it, rushing back to the sofa and kissing him passionately, trying to express all the emotions she had experienced throughout the day.

"I'm really fucking glad you're okay," she whispered against his lips, her forehead resting against his as she caught her breath.

"If that's what happens when I get hurt, I'm going to go looking for trouble more often," Draco mused, a satisfied smile on his lips.

"Do it, and I will hex your bollocks off and make you eat them," Hermione threatened, her voice dangerously calm and silky.

"Noted," Draco squeaked, what little colour he had draining from his face.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." Hermione kissed him once more, then turned and skipped off on her merry way.

"You're going to be the fucking death of me, Granger," Draco muttered to himself as she closed the door behind her.


	11. Chapter 10

Two weeks later, they finally did it. The canary Hermione had transfigured the night before came fluttering out of the cabinet when they opened the door and Draco almost collapsed.

"Hey, it's okay," Hermione put her hands on his arm.

"It's over now," he shook his head. "This is the end of everything."

"Your mother is safe now," Hermione countered.

"I suppose it's all relative. She may not be in danger of immediate death, but now we're all going to be in far more danger than we were. Hermione, they're going to come now."

"I know," she sighed, resting her head against his arm.

"You should go tell Dumbledore that we've done it," Draco pushed her away gently. "He'll want to know."

"He can wait."

"Hermione-"

"I know what you're doing, Draco," she stood her ground, taking his hand and pulling him over to the sofa. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Hermione, this changes-"

"-It changes nothing."

"Would you stop interrupting me?" he snapped.

"No, because I know what you're going to say. You've said it all a dozen times and I don't want to hear it again," Hermione said, starting to get annoyed. "I'm here, I'm with you, I _want_ to be with you and there is nothing that is going to change that- not your constant attempts to sabotage your own happiness, not house rivalries, not our friends and certainly not the bloody Dark Lord because he's nothing but a self-righteous cunt! I'm not going anywhere."

Draco sighed heavily, too worried to even smile at her description of Voldemort, and cupped her face in his hands.

"You're too stubborn for your own good."

"No, I'm just stubborn enough," she put her hand over his. "No matter what happens now, I'm not going anywhere."

"It's not safe."

"Nowhere is safe until that monster is gone. Our being together won't change any of that."

"Of course it will!"

"It won't!" she insisted. "I'm Harry Potter's best friend, you don't think I'm in danger already?!"

"This is different!"

"Of course it's different! I'm not in love with Harry!"

Draco froze, his mouth open in shock at her sudden confession.

"S-sorry?" he choked.

"I said, I'm not in love with Harry," she repeated softly, meeting his eyes. "I'm in love with you."

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resting his forehead gently against hers.

"Hermione," he started to speak, but stopped again, unable to find the words.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't feel the same?" she asked carefully.

"No," he stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Of course I feel the same, but I can't stand the thought of putting you in more danger than you need to be."

"Then you know how I feel," Hermione said, a desperate look in her eyes. "Draco, I'm the only person in the entire world that knows what side you're really on. Not two weeks ago my best friend almost killed you, and that's what every single day is going to be like if we go on like this. You're worried about my safety in the future? I've been worried about yours every day for the last year!"

"I know," he sighed. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Come with me to tell Dumbledore," she begged. "We'll tell him everything, and he'll protect you. You _and_ your mother. Please."

She looked so broken, staring up at him and pleading with him to come clean, and Draco could feel his resolve shrinking. He couldn't say no to her- hadn't been able to since the first time she kissed him, and he couldn't bear the thought of hurting her.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Draco smiled morosely at the hopeful look in her eyes and nodded.

"Okay," he repeated. "We'll go see Dumbledore."

"Now?" she pleaded, taking his hand.

"If that's what you want."

"Thank you."

She had tears in her eyes as she kneeled on the sofa and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

* * *

"So you are Miss Granger's confidential source," Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully after hearing Draco's entire confession. "I had my suspicions."

Neither he or Hermione bothered to ask _how_ the Headmaster had come upon these suspicions, they were both aware that the man had seemingly supernatural knowledge of the goings on of the school.

"Now, can I take your sudden confession as a sign that you no longer wish to serve Voldemort?"

"Yes, sir," Draco nodded, trying is best not to wince at the name. "I- I'd like to join the Order of the Phoenix."

Hermione gave him an encouraging smile, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers.

"That is a very commendable decision. I assume that your joining our ranks has some conditions, though?"

"I wish there were," Draco sighed. "But I know that my mother won't leave my father, and my father won't leave Him."

Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, knowing how hard this was for him. He didn't see this as saving himself, he saw it as abandoning his mother, and her heart broke for him.

"You wish to protect them, despite the danger involved," Dumbledore assumed.

"Of course I do, they're my parents! Despite all the awful things they've done," he said the second part so quietly that only Hermione could here, her mind immediately flashing back to their night of drunken confessions and the scars that littered his torso.

"Well, I may be able to offer a solution to that effect," Dumbledore mused, pulling Hermione's attention back.

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

"I mean, that Mr. Malfoy is in a very unique position that could greatly increase the Order's effectiveness in the fight against Voldemort," the older man explained. "You are a member of the inner sanctum, whether you wish to be or not, and that affords you an opportunity."

"And what would that be?" Draco frowned.

"Well, as I see it, you have two options. The Order shall be more than willing to bring you under our protection of course, however, there is also another option."

"Another option?" Hermione echoed, an overwhelming feeling of terror settling in her chest.

"You have already proven yourself to be an excellent informant. Should you choose to, you would be able to resume these duties and remain with your parents."

Draco heard Hermione's terrified gasp, felt her nails dig into the back of his hand. He could practically hear her heartbeat, but Dumbledore's words echoed in his mind: _Remain with your parents._

"Now, obviously this would be dangerous, and no one would expect you to make that choice," the Headmaster continued. "But your help would be instrumental in taking down Voldemort."

"Y-you want him to go back?" Hermione stammered. "You want him to- to live with _Him_?"

"I am merely providing the option," Dumbledore countered.

Draco simply nodded along, trying to take in all the information he was being presented with.

He knew that Hermione was terrified of the option Dumbledore was giving him, that she wanted nothing more than to scream 'No' at the top of her lungs and lock him in a tower somewhere- but he also knew that she wouldn't say any of this out loud.

"So, you want me to spy," he finally found his voice.

"To put it in layman's terms."

Draco thought about it for another minute. It was dangerous, of course, but if he could help bring the Dark Lord down and still protect his mother, he had to.

"Okay," he nodded.

Hermione bit back a sob and tried to pull her hand away, but Draco held on.

"I have to," he turned to her. "It's the only way to keep my mother safe."

"I know," she nodded, tears flowing freely.

In the hours that followed, Draco informed Dumbledore of the coming attack on Hogwarts and they agreed on a plan for his return to Malfoy Manor.

"When I am gone, you will only make contact with Kingsley Shacklebolt," Dumbledore ordered. "I will assure that he joins us before Voldemort's invasion, so the two of you can arrange some form of communication."

"Sir?" Hermione frowned at this.

"Miss Granger, you and I both know that should Draco's task not be completed, all of this will have been for nought," he smiled sadly. "I fear my days are numbered, no matter how I come to my end. I will not survive the Deatheater's incursion."

He said it with such finality that neither Hermione or Draco could find it in them to argue. It seemed that the Headmaster knew exactly what he was saying, and had found no room for error in his judgement.

"I trust that you will keep this information to yourself," he turned to Hermione pointedly. "For our plans to work, _no one_ can know what has been discussed here tonight."

Hermione understood his meaning plainly and nodded- Harry couldn't know about this night.

* * *

She barely seemed to blink before the night arrived- the night that would begin it all.

"You could still change your mind," she muttered, her face buried in Draco's chest as he held her.

"So could you," he chided her softly. "But we both know we won't. This is how it has to be, love."

Hermione only nodded, unable to speak through her tears.

It was almost over now, Harry had left with Dumbledore and the Deatheaters would be on gathering at 'Borgin and Burkes', ready to storm the castle as soon as Draco sent for them. The war would begin that night, and soon after she would be leaving with Harry and Ron, hunting for horcruxes.

Hermione was ready for all this, she knew what the night would bring and what she would need to do in the days that followed, but she could feel Draco's heart racing with anxiety .

"Don't go," he muttered defeatedly, the strength he had attempted to show only moments before gone, his forehead resting against hers and his hand wrapped in her hair. "Please."

"I have to," she shook her head slowly, holding his face in her hands, stroking his cheek softly.

"It's too dangerous. What if you're caught? What if you're-" he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, the words catching in his throat.

"It'll be okay," she promised. "I'll be fine, and when it's all over we'll finally be together. Everything will be okay."

"Your optimism is infuriating," he laughed harshly.

"I know," she smiled softly, leaning back so she could see his face properly. "But it's all we have."

They had only minutes before she would have to leave and Draco couldn't bear the thought of letting her go, of watching her walk out the door for what could be the last time.

"Promise me," she placed her hands on either side of his head, forcing him to look at her. "Promise me that you'll be safe. No matter what happens, I need you to take care of yourself."

"I promise, as long as you do," he met her eyes.

"I mean it, Draco. No matter what happens," she repeated.

"You mean no matter what happens to you," he realized suddenly, getting to his feet angrily.

"Draco, please, promise me."

There were tears in her eyes as she watched him pace, his fists clenching and unclenching, his face twitching violently as he fought back the urge to lash out at her.

"Draco," the pleading tone in her voice made him stop and look at her, studying her as though he was going to be tested on the position of every freckle, every sparkle in her eyes, every unruly lock of hair- and maybe he was, who knew how long he would have to live off nothing but the memory of her.

"Please," she whispered, her gaze dropping from him to her hands, where she twisted a ring nervously.

"I promise," he sighed, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. "I promise."

"Thank you," she rested her forehead against his again, breathing in the moments they had left together. "Promise me the same, though," he took her face in his hands, his thumb stroking her cheek. "No matter what happens to me, you keep yourself safe."

She nodded, unable to actually say the words.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," Draco wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I love you, too," she whispered, the words almost catching in her throat.

"It's time to go," Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly appeared in the doorway, startling the couple.

"Right," Hermione cleared her throat, wiping the remaining tears from her face. "I'll be there in a minute."

Kingsley nodded and stepped out of the doorway to give them a final minute of privacy.

"I love you," Hermione repeated, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend tightly. "Keep your journal close."

"I will. I love you too," Draco held her tightly, trying to memorize every inch of her.

They shared one last kiss, trying desperately to make it say everything that they couldn't- everything they were too afraid to say, should it be the last time they had the chance.

"We'll be together again," Draco promised as she pulled away.

"Now who's the optimist," she smiled wryly.


	12. Chapter 11

The notebooks were a godsend for the first few months they were apart. They had promised to use them only to reassure each other that they were safe, just in case they were caught, but each night when Hermione found a new line in Draco's neat printing, a weight was lifted from her shoulders- at least for a little while.

The night of Bill and Fleur's wedding was the first time they carried on a full conversation in the books.

Hermione had been laying on the floor in Grimmauld Place pretending to be asleep for close to an hour as she waited for Harry and Ron to fall asleep. As soon as she heard Harry's breathing even out and Ron's quiet snores, she snuck out of the sitting room and retrieved her notebook, taking a seat at the kitchen table. She didn't expect him to write back, it was almost two in the morning and he was probably asleep, so her heart leapt to her throat when she saw the words appear, assuring her in the most obnoxious of tones that he was fine.

Hermione smiled to herself, imagining the cocky smirk she knew he would be wearing as he wrote her. All she wanted in that moment was to be able to grab his chin and wipe the damn thing off, and thinking of being able to do that brought tears to her eyes. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so much she wished she could tell him, but before she could put pen to paper, she heard one of the boys stirring in the other room.

 _I love you. So much_

She scribbled the words down quickly, then shut the notebook and tucked it back into her bag just as Ron stumbled into the kitchen sleepily.

"Whatterya doin?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"I couldn't sleep. I thought if I got up for a few minutes it might help."

"Come back to the other room," he held his hand out to her. "I'll keep you company till you sleep."

Hermione gave him a wry smile and took his hand, allowing herself to be lead back to the makeshift beds.

A few weeks later they snuck into the Ministry and subsequently fled, her notebook was one of the things that was left behind, tucked inside a cauldron in the kitchen cupboards.

* * *

Losing the notebook had been the first straw. Not having the momentary assurance of Draco's safety each night, Hermione found herself laying awake for hours thinking of all the horrible things that could have befallen him. Her only comfort came from the occasional glance at the Marauder's Map. Each time she caught a glimpse of his name, her heart seemed to jump into her throat and she would have to make an excuse to step outside so that she could sob in peace.

It was always worse when it was her turn to wear the necklace, its dark magic filling her with an overwhelming sense of loss and panic instead of the anger that seemed to radiate off Harry and Ron.

Every time she fell asleep, she was plagued with nightmares of Draco being caught, tortured and killed. She did her best to keep quiet when they came, burying her face in a pillow so her friends couldn't hear her sobs, but she could tell that they were suspicious.

When Ron left, things got infinitely worse. Her nightmares became more vivid and when she was awake, an all-encompassing sense of fear weighed on her chest. It was because of this that she finally told Harry everything she had kept from him for the last years.

* * *

Hermione thrashed around in her cot, her nightmares in full force just as they had been every night since they had gone into hiding.

From his position at the tent's entrance, Harry watched her worriedly, not sure if he should wake her or simply let her ride it out. He could never tell with Hermione, she could be so distant sometimes, especially since Ron ran out on them. He'd tried to get her to talk about it a few times, but she always blew him off, insisting that there was nothing wrong and immediately turning his attention back to their search.

He had just picked up his copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages' when her scream jolted him from his thoughts.

"Hermione!" he got up and rushed to her side. "Hermione, wake up!"

He'd barely touched her shoulder when she bolted upright, terrified.

"Hey, it's okay," Harry offered. "It was just a dream-"

"The map!" she cried, her voice shaking. "Where's the map?"

"What map?"

"That bloody map of Hogwarts! Your dad's map- THE MAP, Harry!" she practically screamed, kicking free of the blankets that had wrapped around her legs.

"Uh, it's on my bed, but-"

He'd barely gotten the words out before she pushed him aside and made a mad dash for the bunk on the other side of the tent, desperately patting down the blankets to find the piece of parchment.

"My wand," she demanded once she'd found it. "Give me my wand!"

She was on the verge of tears and Harry was convinced she was having some sort of nervous breakdown, but he handed over the wand and sat beside her carefully.

"I-I solemnly swear th-that I am up t-to no good," she stammered, her hands shaking so much that she could barely hold the wand to the paper. "Please be there," she breathed, scanning the map. "Please be there, please be there, please be there-"

The parchment shook violently as she searched and Harry didn't know how she could possibly read the thing, but a moment later the shaking stopped and she let out a relieved sob.

"Thank God. Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God," she put her face in her hands, the map falling to her lap as she cried.

"Hey, it's okay," Harry put an arm around her shoulders carefully. "It's okay."

Hermione shook her head, her face still buried in her hands.

"Sure it is," he tried to reassure her. "We've got each other. We've got this lovely tent. We've got fresh air. What more could you want?"

This at least earned him a sob that sounded like it might have been a laugh, so Harry continued to rub her arms comfortingly, waiting for her to calm down. It was a few minutes before her sobs quieted to whimpers, and she finally looked up, her eyes red and her face soaked in tears.

Harry offered up a corner of a blanket lamely, and earned another quiet chuckle, then transfigured a handkerchief from a pillowcase and handed that over.

"Hermione, what's going on?" he asked softly. " _Really._ "

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she shook her head, still refusing to look at him.

"We're living in a tent, searching for pieces of a man's soul," he pointed out. "There's not a whole lot left in the world that I wouldn't believe- I've even been reconsidering my stances on Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny."

Hermione smiled momentarily, but remained silent.

"How about we start small?" Harry offered. "Who were you looking for on the map?"

At this, she actually laughed. A harsh, slightly crazed bark of laughter that made Harry even more worried than he already was.

"Hermione, come on, you can tell me anything," he pleaded.

"Not this," she shook her head.

"Hermione, please. Whatever it is, it's eating you alive, even _I_ can see that. I promise to listen and not judge. Just, please, tell me. Maybe I can help."

"You can't," she wiped a few straggling tears from her cheeks and picked up the map again, scanning it quickly before settling on a spot.

"Please," Harry begged once more, his hand covering hers and squeezing it tightly. "Who were you dreaming about?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her finger stroking a dot on the map that Harry couldn't read.

"Draco," she said, the name barely more than a whisper. "I was dreaming about Draco Malfoy."

"What about him?" Harry asked, trying not to sound judgemental.

"He was being tortured- the Cruciatus," she continued. "And I couldn't stop it. I couldn't get to him-"

She let out another sob, her hand leaving the map to cover her mouth.

"What?" Harry frowned.

"Draco and I-" she started to explain, then stopped to gather her thoughts.

Harry recognized the look on her face well, the same one she got when trying to decipher a difficult arithmancy problem, so he simply sat quietly and waited for her to speak again.

"Merlin, I don't even know where to start," she barked, her voice shaking again.

"How about you start at the beginning?" he suggested carefully. "Just take your time, it's not like we have anywhere to be."

She gave him a tight smile, then took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers.

"The beginning?" she sighed.

"You've always told me it was the best place to start," he shrugged.

"I was looking for a place to study. Ron was being particularly annoying and Lavender was practically trying to swallow his entire head, and you were glaring daggers at Ginny and whoever she was seeing, and I just needed a quiet place to study. I ended up stumbling into the Room of Requirement."

"And Malfoy was there?" Harry guessed.

"He had a right fit that I was able to get into the room while he was in there," Hermione chuckled. "I thought he was going to Avada me, right then and there, but I stood my ground- told him to stop acting like such a child."

"I bet he took that well."

"Extremely," she smiled. "He started screaming about how I knew nothing about him or his life or anything else for that matter, and should stick to what I knew- how to be an annoying little bookworm. I told him that was exactly what I was trying to do, so if he would just clear out I would get back to it. He said, 'I was here first, Granger, and I have far more important things to worry about than your ability to answer every bloody question in every bloody class'."

"How kind of him," Harry muttered under his breath.

"I could have punched him in his translucent, stuck up face," Hermione ignored him. "I demanded to know what was so important, that he would lower himself to speaking to me for so long. And, Morgana only knows why, he told me. Well, screamed it at me."

"Screamed _what_ at you?"

She took a couple deep breaths, studying his face closely.

"Come on, Hermione. We've come this far," he nudged her shoulder encouragingly.

"Just- don't say anything, okay?" she gave him a pleading look.

"Okay," he agreed.

She studied him for another minute, chewing her lip nervously, then seemed to focus on a spot across the floor and continued.

"He took the mark after Lucius went to Azkaban, to protect his mother from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but he doesn't believe it- any of it. Not the blood purity shit, or the Muggle shit, none of it- he hadn't believed it in years. He took the mark because he didn't have any other option- it was the only way to keep his mother safe."

She could tell that Harry was grinding his teeth in an attempt to keep silent, but she forced herself to keep going, determined to make him understand.

"His family hasn't been in favour since the Department of Mysteries debacle, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wants them dead, but He couldn't do that without it looking bad, so he got creative. He gave Draco tasks that he couldn't possibly fulfil, so that when he failed He could kill him and his mother and no one would bat an eye."

"Killing Dumbledore," Harry deduced.

"It was more than that. He had to figure out a way to get the Deatheaters into the castle that night," Hermione explained. "The stress of it all, it was killing him. I mean, you saw, he was practically collapsing in on himself. He couldn't eat, he barely slept, it was taking everything he had just to keep up that emotionless facade of his. He was trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in the room of hidden things, it's part of a matching set and the other one was in Borgin and Burkes. If he got it fixed, the Deatheaters would be able to get into the school and his mother would be okay. The only problem, was that no one had been able to fix those cabinets in years. No one even knew how they were really broken, it was such extraordinary magic."

Hermione shook her head, trying to focus on the story at hand.

"Anyways, he yells all this at me, by the time he finished he was close to tears and in that moment, he wasn't Draco Malfoy: the boy who'd been bullying me for years, he was Draco Malfoy: the boy who had no other choice. I realized that he was in the exact same position as the rest of us, forced into a war that he never asked for and didn't believe in, to protect the people he loved. So I hugged him."

"You what?" Harry asked, a horrified look on his face.

"I hugged him," she repeated, laughing as she remembered the look on his face.

"So you held Draco Malfoy while he cried like a baby?"

"Yes, I did," Hermione glared. "And then we talked. I tried to get him to go to Dumbledore, to tell him what was going on and get his help, but he wouldn't. He was terrified that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would find out and kill his mother. So I offered to help him."

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Harry demanded, releasing her hand and jumping to his feet.

"Harry, please, you promised to listen!"

"That was before you admitted to helping Vol-"

"I DID NO SUCH THING!" she screamed, getting up to face him. "HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF THAT!"

"YOU JUST SAID-"

"I DID NOT, WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LET ME FINISH!?"

They glared at each other for a minute, both breathing heavily, until Harry finally nodded and gesticulated for her to keep talking.

"I told him that I would help him fix the cabinet," Hermione repeated, trying to keep her emotions in check. "And in exchange, he gave me information about the goings on he heard about with the Deatheaters, which I passed on to Dumbledore."

Harry at least had the decency to look vaguely apologetic as she explained this, though his stance still gave off a powerfully combative air.

"So every night, we met in the Room of Requirement and worked on the cabinet," Hermione continued.

"How did you keep that secret?" Harry demanded.

"We met after midnight."

"That's not what I meant," he shook his head. "How could you keep that from Ron and I?"

"How would you have reacted if I had told you I was helping Draco Malfoy?" she scoffed. "You would have thought I was crazy, or that he'd Imperiused me. You would have gone after him, tried to kill him, and let the entire world know what we were doing and he would have died."

"It's Malfoy!" Harry argued.

"Don't say it like that," Hermione shook her head. "Like he's some horrible, incurable disease."

"He might as well be. He almost killed Ron, Hermione, are you forgetting that?!"

"That was an accident! He never meant for anyone else to get hurt! And you almost killed him right back, so you can call it fucking even!"

"Oh, please, how could you be so naive to believe that?!" Harry rolled his eyes. "He's always hated Ron, I bet he was right chuffed to hear about his near death experience."

"He was horrified!" Hermione shot back. "How dare you accuse him of something so horrid! You don't even know him!"

"Neither do you, if you can't see straight through whatever game he's been playing at!"

"I'm in love with him!"

Silence fell over the tent, broken only by the sound of the wind against the fabric walls, as Harry stared at her in complete and utter shock.

"Excuse me?" he finally spluttered.

"I'm in love with him," Hermione repeated, each word perfectly enunciated. "We spent every night together for six months, and we got close. We shared our lives with each other, every aspect of our lives and we became friends- friends like you and I, Harry."

"No," Harry shook his head in disgust. "No, don't compare you and me, to you and him!"

"We told each other everything," she pushed on with her explanation, raising her voice so that he was forced to listen. "I don't know when, exactly, but at some point we stopped being just friends and started being something more. If you want the gory details, I'll give them to you, but I feel safe in assuming you'd rather set yourself on fire."

"You're right about that," he scoffed. "Gods, Hermione! How could you fall for someone like Malfoy?"

"You don't know him Harry," she insisted. "You don't know anything about him. All you see is what you've been told to see for the last seven years, what Ron and all the other Gryffindors told you. You see his House and you see his name and the facade that he puts on for the rest of the world, and nothing else. You don't see that he's kind and brilliant and funny and loving. Gods, Harry, he's the most loving man I've ever met. He cares so much, and he holds it in until it swallows him alive."

She had started to cry again, desperate to make her best friend understand- for him to see the man that she knew and not the boy that they had grown up with.

"He was killing himself trying to protect everyone- still is, and you didn't see any of it."

"Hermione, he's a Deatheater!"

"He's not! And even when he was, it wasn't like he had a choice. No more than you had a choice in joining the Order! He's trying to keep his mother from being murdered! You of all people must understand that!"

"Me of all people?" Harry demanded, fire in his eyes.

"Harry Potter, do not look at me like that," Hermione chastised. "I know you. I know you better than anyone else in this world, and I know that if your mother were still alive, you would do _anything_ to save her. Look what you're willing to do for the rest of the world!"

She had him there, and he knew it too, as he slouched ever so slightly and crossed his arms moodily.

"Draco is doing the same thing you are- fighting desperately to protect the people he loves."

When Harry didn't shout back at her angrily, she continued.

"The night we finally fixed the cabinet, we went to see Dumbledore and told him everything- just like I'm telling you now. When we finished Draco expressed his wish to join the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore forgave him. He told him that there was nothing he would have done differently, and that he didn't hold any of Draco's choices against him. And then he gave him a choice. Either he could walk away, right then and there and be put under the protection of the Order, or he could stay and play the double-agent as he had for the last year."

Harry's jaw dropped. He couldn't even imagine being asked to spy on the Dark Lord himself, and he could see into the man's mind!

"Draco insisted on being the martyr," Hermione continued, her voice catching. "He said he wanted to do everything he could to defeat him, so he would go home for the summer and play the part of the perfect Pureblood son, just as he had for the last seventeen years. I begged him not to afterwards, I told him it was too dangerous, even if he is a brilliant Occlumence, but he wouldn't budge. He couldn't leave his mother behind, and he knew he would never get her to leave- especially not after Lucius' escape from Azkaban. So now he's there, in the same house as that _monster_ , all alone. And I'm here, with you, trying like hell to get these fucking horcruxes before he gets caught."

She threw her arms out as if to say, 'there it is', then dropped onto Harry's bunk and began to sob again, clutching the Marauders map to her chest.

Not knowing what to do with all this information, Harry began to pace, his mind spinning so fast he could barely breathe. And then he looked over and saw Hermione, his best friend in the entire world, curled up on his bed clutching a map with the name of her... boyfriend. He cringed even thinking about it, but that seemed to be the situation. He wanted to punch the blonde Slytherin prick in his stupid teeth, but there was Hermione to think about. Hermione was the closest thing he had to a sister, he just wanted her to be happy, and as of that moment she most definitely was not happy.

"Hermione," he scrubbed his hand over his face and sat down beside her. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"Yes you did," she sniffed. "And I knew you would."

"No, I really didn't," he promised. "I just worry about you. I don't want you to get hurt, and Malfoy... he's hurt you so many times."

"This is different," she sat up a little. "Harry, trust me. I didn't walk into this lightly, I didn't just jump in head first and just throw caution to the wind. This wasn't something that happened suddenly or quickly and he isn't manipulating me or using me or anything like that."

"But how can you be sure?" Harry insisted. "Hermione, I don't mean to be a bigoted prick, but you have to know where I'm coming from."  
"I do," she nodded. "Harry, believe me, I had the same doubts at first, but that was before I really got to know him. You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I trust you with my life."

"Then please, trust me about this. I love Draco, and he loves me. He is a good man."

Between her desperate tone and the pleading look in her eye, something in Harry's brain told him that he needed to believe her. So he swallowed his pride and years of hatred, took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Hermione sat up hopefully.

"Okay," he sighed. "I trust you, and I trust that you know what you're doing. If you love him... I don't know, I wish you luck?"

"Oh," Hermione laughed and threw her arms around his neck. "You're hopeless, Harry Potter, you know that?"

"Well I don't know, what are you supposed to say when your best friend announces that she's in love with your nemesis?" he asked, laughing along with her.

"Your nemesis?"

"Yes, my nemesis," Harry repeated. "Though, for your sake, I will refrain from calling him that anymore."

"Thank you," she rolled her eyes. "Listen, Harry, I know that this seems completely out of the blue and more than a little crazy, but I really do love him."

"I can see that," he assured her. "So... I don't know where we go from here."

"Me neither," Hermione admitted. "We can just leave it where it is."

"I get the feeling you'd like to talk about it. Would you?"

She chewed her lip and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Hey, I tell you all about how much I miss Ginny," he put his arm around her shoulders. "What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't extend you the same listening ear? Who else knows about the two of you?"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, he's Draco's contact. That's it."

"No one else in the Order knows that he's on our side?" Harry asked.

"No," she chewed at her lip again. "Dumbledore thought it would be best if only one other person knew."

"That seems..."

"Stupid?" Hermione supplied. "Tell me about it. I spend every day worrying that he's going to be caught and killed on the spot because only two people in the entire world know about this and one of us is in hiding."

"Geez, Hermione," Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you kept this to yourself for so long. It must have been killing you."

"It is," she nodded sadly. "But Dumbledore said it would keep him safe, and I need him to be safe- or as safe as he can be."

This, at least, Harry could understand. He felt the same way about Ginny- a desperate need to keep her safe coupled with an overwhelming feeling of uselessness and betrayal being so far away.

"He'll be okay," he tried to comfort her. "Malfoy's smart, he'll worm his way out of whatever he has to to get back to you. He is his father's son, after all. You'll see him again."

Hermione had smiled at this assurance, wanting nothing more- but she hadn't wanted it to be like this.

 **A/N: Cue the dramatic cliffhanger music, and remember that there are times when you guys actually like me ;) I just want to drop a quick thank you for all the follows/favourites/reviews you guys have sent this way. I appreciate them so much, and I love hearing what you think. See you soon!**

 **-Em**


	13. Chapter 12

When Greyback had announced that he'd caught Potter, Draco hadn't believed it. He had followed his mother into the drawing room fully expecting to find some random boy with glasses, but he had almost audibly gasped when he got there. Not only had they found Potter, they had found Hermione.

The room began to spin, Draco's mind ran circles, desperately trying to figure out what to do, how to save her, how to get her out of this house and away from his family before they could figure out who she was- who she was to _him_. And then she met his eyes, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. He knew what she was saying, and it killed him _'you promised'_. He could hear her telling him to be safe no matter what happened, could feel her hair in his fingers and her forehead against his as he replayed their final conversation in his head. This was what she had meant that day, not to be safe if she died, but to be safe if she were caught. To keep up the facade of loyalty, no matter the cost. Damn her and her need to live for the greater good! The Order could go to hell if it meant saving her, but he knew that he couldn't- not without getting them all killed. So he stood at his mother's side, his nails cutting into his hands as he clenched his fists, blood filling his mouth as he bit his cheek to keep from crying out and launching himself across the room to pull her from his aunt's hand. He focused all his effort on casting wandless numbing spells towards her, praying to whatever would listen that he would be able to lessen her pain, if nothing else.

And then Bella had pulled out the knife and begun carving, and the screams stopped, melting into whimpers and half-conscious pleads for mercy. Her head fell to the side, and he worried that she was dead- that she had died right in front of him and he had done nothing- but then her eyes opened slightly and met his, holding his gaze for as long as she could before the pain finally overtook her.

Draco couldn't tears his eyes from her as his aunt moved on to interrogating the goblin that had been brought in, demanding to know if the sword was real. It wasn't until she put her hand to the mark on her arm that Draco realized what was happening- what was about to happen- and then she had offered Hermione to Greyback and nothing mattered anymore. Draco shot towards her, but before he could get far an angry shout came from around the corner and Weasley and Potter launched themselves into the room, disarming Bella and stunning his father. His mother and Greyback both raised their wands to defend themselves, but Draco's only focus was on getting to Hermione and keeping her safe.

But he was too late, Bella had gotten their first, wrenching her lifeless body up off the floor and holding a dagger to her throat.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!" she shrieked, smiling maliciously as Harry and Ron both froze.

For a moment, Draco almost gave up- sure that he had failed her, that this was the end- and then he realized how perfect it really was. All eyes were on the face-off between his aunt and Potter, nobody noticed as Draco quietly moved towards her, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Harry and Ron dropped their wands, and Bellatrix ordered him forward to collect them- all the better for me, Draco thought, it's never hurt having an extra wand.

He could feel the mark on his arm burning as the Dark Lord drew closer and knew that he had to act quickly. He was just coming up with a plan when he heard a grinding noise overhead.

The entire room to looked up to see Dobby unscrewing the chandelier and Draco took his chance, turning on his heel and pointing his wand at his aunt.

"STUPEFY!" he shouted, sending the mad woman flying backwards as he dove to catch Hermione. He barely pulled her away before the chandelier came crashing down, and all hell broke loose. Without missing a beat, Draco chucked the extra wands he held towards Harry and began half dragging, half carrying Hermione towards where her friends were holding court, keeping low to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

He didn't think about what he had done, didn't look back, he simply held onto Hermione as tightly as he could, and thanked Merlin that Potter grabbed his arm as Dobby apparated them away.


	14. Chapter 13

"HARRY LOOK OUT!" Ron cried as their feet touched down, his wand aimed at Draco's head. "Let her go you bastard!"

"Ron, stop!" Harry reached out and pulled his arm down, stepping between them. "He's on our side."

"HE'S A DEATHEATER! HIS FAMILY JUST TRIED TO KILL US! HE'S GOT HERMIONE!"

"But _he_ didn't," Harry shook his head. "Dobby, is this Shell Cottage? Have we come to the right place? Are we safe? Dobby?"

He turned on the spot, looking for the elf, then gasped.

"DOBBY!" he dove forward to catch him as he fell, cradling him in his lap. "Dobby, no. HELP, WE NEED HELP! Hermione!"

Harry turned pleadingly towards her, praying that she would know what to do- Hermione always knew what to do- but she hung limply in Draco's arms, barely conscious and in no shape to offer any help.

As Harry cradled the dying house elf, Ron raised his wand towards Draco again, shouting at him to let Hermione go. From afar, Draco could see people running towards them and shouting for Harry and Ron. All he cared about, though, was Hermione.

She was standing, but only barely, Draco knew that if he let go of her she would crumple to the ground. Her head lolled from side to side and she had begun to mutter incoherently.

"Hermione," he dropped to his knees, carefully bringing her with him and pulling her into his lap. "Hermione, it's okay. You're safe now, I've got you. I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

Ron was still shouting at him, but he seemed miles away, all Draco could see was Hermione. He brushed the hair from her face carefully, stroked her cheek softly and pressed kisses to the top of her head, pleading with her to wake up, to say something, to give him some sort of sign that she wasn't about to die in his arms.

And then someone ran at him, shoving him backwards into the sand, making him lose his grip on her, sending Hermione to the ground. As he got to his feet, he saw someone crouching over her, and he charged. He didn't know where they were, he didn't know what was going on, he just knw that he had to help her.

"Get away from her!" he roared, launching himself at the crouched figure and wrenching them away from Hermione's prostrate form, before lifting her into his arms again and drawing his wand. "Don't touch her! Nobody touch her!"

He turned slowly, aiming his wand at each and every figure he saw, glaring menacingly. He didn't register their faces or anything else of consequence, all he knew was that they were trying to take her away from him- and he was never going to let that happen again.

"Draco," a soft, lilting voice drifted through the shouts, and a slight figure stepped forward.

Draco immediately turned his wand on them, holding Hermione to him even tighter.

"Draco, it's alright," Luna Lovegood said quietly. "It's alright, she's safe now."

She took another careful step towards him, her hands outstretched peacefully.

"This is a safehouse," she explained. "No one's going to hurt her. But Hermione needs help, she needs medical attention. You need to let us help her."

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" Ron cried out furiously. "Luna, get away form him!"

"It's fine, Ronald," the blonde said airily, her eyes never leaving Draco's. "He's on our side."

"WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT?! HE'S A DEATHEATER!"

"No," Hermione rasped, drawing the attention of everone on the beach.

"Hermione," Draco let out a breath of relief. "Hermione, love, you're alright, I've got you now."

She nodded slowly and wrapped her hand in his shirt, as though she knew someone would try to take her away from him.

"Ron," she turned her head slowly, wincing in pain. "Ron, he's a member of the Order. He's on our side. He-"

Before she could say anything else, she fainted again, and a tall man with red hair and a scarred face stepped forward.

"We need to get her inside," he said sternly. "Ron, get out of the way."

"B-but-"

"Move!" the man shoved his shoulder and motioned towards the house. "Hermione needs healing."

Luna nodded encouragingly at Draco, "Go with Bill, he'll help you. I'll bring Harry in a few minutes."

When they got up to the house, a small seaside cottage, a blonde woman was waiting with a supply of potions and spellbooks.

"You'll know Fleur from school, I expect," the scarred man turned to Draco. "She was in the Triwizard Tournament."

Draco nodded, vaguely recognzing her as the competitor from Beauxbatons Academie.

"Put 'er down 'ere," Fleur told Draco, motioning towards the sofa. "Tell me what 'appened."

Draco was reluctant to let go of Hermione, but he set her down all the same, carefully brushing the hair from her face. When he tried to step away and give Fleur space to work, however, Hermione's fist tightened in his shirt and she let out a small gasp.

"Shh," Draco knelt beside her, stroking her cheek softly. "I'm right here love, I'm not going anywhere."

"'Ermione," Fleur spoke softly, reaching out and taking the semi-conscious girl's free hand. "You are all right now, you are in Shell Cottage with Bill and I. We will take good care of you."

"Draco," Hermione murmured.

"He eez right 'ere," Fleur assured her. "He eez going to tell me what 'appened so I can 'eal you."

She turned and looked at Draco expectantly.

"She- she was tortured," he stuttered, unable to look away from Hermione's broken form. "Cursed."

"Wheech curses?" Fleur asked, reaching for one of her books.

"Crucio," Draco answered hollowly.

Fleur froze, her hand hovering listlessly over the stack of books.

"Oh," she squeaked, a fresh look of pity crossing her face.

"I- I tried to help," Draco explained quickly, shaking his head. "I couldn't stop her, but- but I tried to numb her. I don't know..."

His voice failed as his emotions caught up with him and he began to cry.

"Oh, Gods, what have I done?" he sobbed, pressing Hermione's palm to his lips. "What have I done? What have I done?"

Fleur could tell that she wouldn't be able to bring the poor boy in front of her any comfort, so she busied herself trying to heal Hermione's arm.

"How is she?" Ron asked rushing into the room.

"I zink she will be alright," Fleur sighed, finishing wrapping her arm. "Zis blade must 'ave been cursed, zough. I cannot 'eal it as well as I should be able to."

"Well I hope you're happy, Malfoy," her brother-in-law snarled.

"Ron, you should go help Harry," Luna entered the room. "He's digging a grave for Dobby and I think he'd appreciate the company."

"I think he'd like someone to tell me what the hell is going on and why you don't seem at all concerned about the fact that Draco Malfoy is sitting in my brother's house and acting like he's upset."

"Ron," Fleur put a calming hand on his arm. "Take a breath."

"No! Get away from her!" Ron surged forward, ripping Draco away from Hermione and throwing him to the ground.

"Ron!" Bill shouted, trying to get between them- unfortunately, he didn't move fast enough.

Once Draco was on the floor, Ron tackled him, pressing his knees against his chest and punching him in the face. Before anyone could intercede, both boys were rolling around the floor, beating each other half to death.

In a rushed attempt to get them away from each other, Bill raised his wand and sent the brawlers flying to opposite ends of the room.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" he shouted. "Ron, take a walk!"

"But-"

"NOW!"

His tone was so reminiscent of their mother that Ron swallowed his arguments and stormed from the room, slamming the back door loudly and startling Hermione back to consciousness.

"Draco," she whimpered.

"I'm here," he rushed back to her side. "I'm right here, love."

Herimione turned to look at him and tried her best to smile, then got a good look at him and gasped. "Draco, your face!"

"I'm okay," he shook his head quickly. "Don't worry about me. How are you? Are you in pain?"

"It's not too bad," she shook her head slowly, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "I'm okay."

"You could have died," Draco swallowed a sob. "Merlin, Hermione-"

"But I didn't," she interrupted. "I'm fine."

"You can barely move," he shook his head sternly. "You're not okay."

"I will be," she promised. "I'll be okay. Isn't that what you said when the situation was reversed?"

This, at last, brought a smile to Draco's lips, as he remembered a night so many months ago when he had given Hermione the same assurances- the night after Harry Potter had almost killed .

"You need to rest," Fleur interrupted the couple. "Let's get you settled in ze guest room. Can you walk?"

"I think-"

"No," Draco stopped her before she could do more than sit up a few inches. "I'll carry you."

"Draco I-"

"I'm carrying you," he said with finality. "Come here."

He helped Hermione wrap her arms around his neck and gingerly lifted her off the sofa, cradling her against his chest.

"Zis way," Fleur led him up the stairs and into a small bedroom. "I'll bring up a sleeping potion for 'er. But first, I must check on 'Arry and ze ozers. Eef you need somezing, call."

She gave him one last encouraging smile, then left them alone.

Draco settled Hermione in bed as comfortably as he could and went to pull a chair over, but she reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the bed beside her.

"Don't go," she whispered hoarsely.

"Never," Draco promised, sitting on the bed and pulling her into his side. "Never again."

She nodded slowly and rested her head on his shoulder, letting the pain and exhaustion take over.


	15. Chapter 14

Listening to Hermione's ragged breathing Draco let his guilt wash over him, revelling in the pain that it brought- pain that he so rightly deserved for letting his family hurt her, for not helping her sooner, for not leaving the manor when he had the chance.

There were so many things he should have done, so many ways he could have protected her, but he hadn't. He had made that damn promise to her, he had believed in her need to fight for the greater good, and look where it had gotten them.

The longer he thought about it, the more angry he became. Angry with his parents for following Voldemort. Angry at Dumbledore for letting him go home and spy on the Deatheaters when he was just a kid. Angry at Potter and Weasley for not protecting her. Angry at Hermione for making him swear not to interfere, for that look in her eyes when he was brought into the drawing room, telling him to stay the course.

Above all else, though, he was angry with himself. For not joining the Order sooner, for not leaving the manor when he'd had the chance, for not stopping Hermione from running off with Potter in the first place, for not locking her up in the closest safe house and refusing to let her out of his sight. He was her boyfriend, it was his job to protect her, and he had failed.

There it was, the heart of it all, the thing he would never be able to forgive himself for- he had failed the woman he loved, and Merlin did he love her, but sitting on this bed, listening to each and every painful breath she took, he knew that she could never love him after this.

"I'm so sorry, love," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm so sorry."

"If she could hear you right now, she'd tell you to shut up," a voice said from the doorway.

Draco hadn't even heard the door open, but he wasn't surprised to see Harry Potter step inside and shut it carefully before leaning against it.

"Don't worry," he held his hands up cautiously. "I know."

"Know what, exactly?" Draco asked, his arm tightening around Hermione.

"All of it?" Harry frowned. "At least, I think so. She told me what you did, how you've been spying for the Order since last year, and that the two of you are..."

He trailed off, pointing between the intertwined pair uncertainly.

"Well, we were," Draco sighed. "Who knows now."

"You still are," Harry shook his head. "None of this is your fault, Malfoy."

"I don't know how you could possibly come to that conclusion," Draco scoffed. "I could have stopped them-"

"They would have killed you," Harry interrupted. "If you had stepped in any earlier, we would all be dead right now. You saved our lives."

"I didn't save anyone," Draco shook his head.

"You're an idiot," Hermione spoke, turning her face up so she could look at him.

"Sorry?" Draco frowned.

"You are a bloody idiot," she repeated. "You never give yourself the credit you're due. You saved us, Draco. You saved me."

"I stood there and watched Bella torture you," he shook his head, his voice catching again.

"You cast numbing charms," Hermione reminded him. "You took away as much of the pain as you could, I felt it. I made you promise not to do anything stupid, and you kept your promise. You don't understand how much that means to me."

"But-"

"No," she sat up, wincing, and glared at him. "If you had gotten yourself killed trying to save me, I would never have gotten over it."

Tears pooled in her eyes as she thought about what might have happened if he had acted earlier, if he had tried to stop his aunt before Ron and Harry had escaped.

"If you had tried to intervene-" she choked back a sob and reached for his hand. "You would have died and it would have killed me. So please, for me, believe that you did the right thing."

"Okay," Draco agreed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "For you."

He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent and relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms again, momentarily allowing himself to forget the last few hours.

He didn't have long to savour the moment, though, as Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing their attention.

"Sorry, but, I need Hermione."

"You're kidding, right?" Draco gaped at him. "She can barely move."

"I'm okay," she shook her head, pulling away from him slowly.

Harry was quick to jump to her aid, crossing the room and offering his arm.

"Thanks," she gave him a tight smile. "Dobby?"

Harry shook his head morosely, and her face fell.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Yeah," he shrugged in thanks, then quickly changed the subject. "We have to talk to Griphook."

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked, looking back at Draco nervously.

"He's waiting for us," Harry promised. "Don't worry, we'll explain it all to him as soon as we're done. Malfoy, Fleur wants you to go downstairs and have something to eat. She says you're too thin."

Hermione smiled at this, which made Draco smile in turn.

"I'll find you when we're done," she promised, then allowed Harry to lead her from the room, leaning on him ever so slightly.

"You were amazing, by the way," Harry told her as they crossed the hallway. "Coming up with that story and holding up against Bellatrix-"

He shook his head in disbelief, squeezing her arm encouragingly. Hermione offered him only a slight smile in return, not wanting to think about what had happened just yet- not when there was still work to be done.

"What have you told Bill?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing," Harry shook his head. "And he's not pleased, but he's not asking either. He wants to send Griphook and Mr. Ollivander to stay with the rest of the family at Aunt Muriel's. Fleur's angry with me as well, she wanted to let Griphook rest."

"I'm sure she realizes how important it must be," Hermione offered.

"Hermione!" Ron stepped into the hall and rushed to her side, pulling her into a rib-cracking hug. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he? I'll kill him-"

"You'll do no such thing," Hermione snapped. "Ron, we wouldn't have brought him here if he was dangerous. Draco is on our side and has been for quite some time now."

"We promise to explain," Harry added. "But first, we need to talk to Griphook. Come on."


	16. Chapter 15

Hermione found Draco in the sitting room with Luna and Dean, talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Hey," he jumped to his feet as soon as he saw her. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," she smiled. "How are you?"

"Nobody's tried to kill me since you left," he shrugged. "So I'd say I'm okay."

"Day's not over yet," Ron snarled, entering the room behind Hermione. "Now, hows about someone tells me why you seem to be so friendly with Malfoy?"

"I think we should sit down," Hermione sighed.

"I'm fine where I am," Ron crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Ron, sit down," Harry shoved him towards the sofa, which had been vacated by Luna and Dean seconds earlier.

"We'll let you talk," Dean muttered, following Luna into the kitchen.

Ron sat down reluctantly and glared at Hermione, all of his previous concern for her well-being now gone.

Hermione sat down on the loveseat, Draco sitting on her other side while Harry perched on the arm of a chair nearby.

"Draco and I are dating," Hermione said, deciding to simply rip the plaster off.

Before Ron could start screaming obscenities and say something he would regret, Harry waved his wand and silenced him, giving Hermione a chance to get out the entire explanation.

"Last year, when we came back from Christmas holidays, I found Draco in the Room of Requirement having a tantrum, he just about took my head off with a bookcase and we rowed," she pushed onward. "One thing led to another, and he told me everything that was happening. How He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had tasked him with killing Dumbledore-"

"I'm well aware of all that," Ron huffed. "Everyone is."

"Would you let her talk?" Harry glared. "Or should I just keep my wand at the ready?"

"Fine," he grumbled and turned his attention back to Hermione, his face still betraying how angry he was about the situation.

"I helped Draco fix the vanishing cabinet," she continued. "And I told Dumbledore everything Draco told me about the Deatheaters. The night we got the cabinet working, we went to see the Headmaster and told him everything- what we'd been doing, what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was planning and all the details that went along with it. Draco swore his allegiance to the Order, and he's been playing the part of a Deatheater so that he could feed us information."

" _We're_ part of the Order," Ron pointed out.

"I only deal with Kingsley Shacklebolt," Draco explained quietly. "Dumbledore thought it would be best. He's the only one who knows where my allegiances truly lie- or, he was, I suppose."

"You knew?" Ron turned his anger on Harry suddenly, his face burning as red as his hair.

"Not the whole time," Harry refused to meet his friend's eyes.

"When?" he demanded.

"Ron," Hermione's voice was calm and even, but Ron didn't seem to hear her.

"When?" he repeated, glaring at Harry.

"When you left," Harry snapped. "Alright? Are you happy?"

Ron at least had the decency to look ashamed, even if it was only for a moment.

Beside her, Hermione could feel Draco staring at her questioningly and she reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly and hoping he would understand that she would explain later.

"You left, you remember that?!" Harry snapped, his own anger over the last day finally coming in. "Things weren't going as easily as you seemed to think they would, and you walked out on us. That's when I found out. Are you happy?!"

"Harry," Hermione got to her feet and reached out to him, forcing herself to remain calm when all she wanted to do was thrash the both of them. "Harry, take a breath. It's been a long night and we're all on edge, you just need to take a minute."

"I'm not going to take a damn minute!" He snapped, making Hermione jump back slightly. "He left, that's what happened, I'm not just going to brush over that fact."

"Harry, it was the necklace," she said placatingly. "You know it was messing with his emotions, it did it to all of us. Please, sit down."

"I don't want to-"

"Harry Potter, sit your scar faced arse in that chair and let me speak or so help me!" Hermione finally snapped. She didn't have the patience for petty squabbling right now. Her entire body still felt like it was on fire, she had bled clear through the bandages on her arm and she hadn't slept in days- aside from the times she had fainted in pain in the last few hours. No, now was not the time for niceties, which was why she didn't bother to pay attention to the shocked looks she was getting from all three men in the room.

"I told Harry about Draco and I while you were gone because I was upset," Hermione told Ron. "Everything was going terribly, you had left, and when you're living in a tent in the middle of nowhere hiding from an evil, seemingly all-powerful wizard, you don't exactly bothering filtering anymore. He could see that I was worried and I'd started watching the map, just like he did, and he wanted to know why. So I told him and if you'd have been there, I would have told you, but you weren't."

She dropped heavily onto the loveseat, her hand resting on Draco's leg protectively.

"I didn't tell you before, because we promised each other that we would keep it a secret, that no one would know because it was the only way to keep each other safe. Just like I made him promise not to interfere if something like yesterday happened."

"But why tell Harry and not me?" Ron demanded. "I'm your best friend too!"

"Because I knew you would act like this!" Hermione barked. "In the seven years that we have been friends, Ronald, you have never once had anything kind to say about Draco, and I know that there are perfectly valid reasons for that, but they don't apply anymore. He's changed, we all have, and I need you to accept this, but I knew that you wouldn't. That's why I didn't tell you, Ronald. I was barely holding it together worrying about Draco living with those people, never knowing if he would be dead the next time I searched for him on the map, I couldn't deal with your petulant, judgemental, bigoted anger on top of all that. I just couldn't!"

She sat back in an angered huff, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting- though what she was waiting for she couldn't quite decide.

An overpowering silence fell as everyone took in the information that had just been vomited into the room, each member of the Golden Trio breathing raggedly, glaring angrily and waiting for the others to speak.

It was Ron that finally broke the tension, getting to his feet and storming out angrily.

No sooner had he stepped out, than Fleur stormed in with an expression so fierce Hermione thought she was about to face another dragon.

"You 'ave bled zrough ze dressings," she scolded, drawing everyone's attention to the large blood stain on Hermione's shirt.

"Hermione," Draco gasped, pulling her arm towards him and studying it closely. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I've had more important things to deal with," she snapped, pulling away from him.

"Well you don't anymore," Harry said. "You need to rest."

"Exactement," Fleur nodded. "To bed with you- all of you."

"Bed," Harry chuckled humourlessly. "What's that again?"

"Come on," Draco stood up and held his hand out to Hermione. "I'll help you get cleaned up."

"Zere are bandages in ze room, and 'ealing potions."

"Thank you," Hermione took Fleur's hand, squeezing it tightly. "For everything."

"We are family, non?" the blonde woman smiled softly. "We must care for each ozer."


	17. Chapter 16

Draco knelt in front of Hermione and carefully unwrapped the bandages on her arm.

"I'm sorry," he bit back a gasp as the full extent of the damage his aunt had done came into view. "I'm so sorry Hermione."

"It's not your fault," she hissed painfully.

"I should have stopped her," he shook his head mournfully. "I should have done something- anything."

"You did," Hermione ran her hand through his hair calmly. "I wouldn't have made it out of there without you."

"I know," he leaned into her touch. "It doesn't make me feel much better though."

"Well, it makes _me_ feel better," she smiled. "Does that help?"

Draco looked up at her, taking in the pleading look in her eyes and allowed himself the smallest smile.

"Yeah, it does," he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand. "Okay, we've got to get this cleaned up."

He conjoured a bowl of warm water and a cloth, then retrieved the potions and ointments Fleur had left.

Despite his attempts to be as gentle as possible, Hermione couldn't stop herself from whimpering each time he touched the cloth to her arm, making Draco's heart clench.

"I'm sorry," he muttered repeatedly, doing his best to clean her up as quickly as possible. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Hermione muttered, her eyes squeezed shut and her face contorted in pain.

"I'm almost done," Draco promised. "You're doing so good, though."

"Mmhmm," she winced.

"There, all done," he set the washcloth aside and reached for the healing ointment.

"That's not done," Hermione muttered.

"The painful bit's done," he amended. "This will help with the pain."

He lathered a generous amount of ointment over the marks carved into her arm, then bandaged it tightly.

"Okay, _now_ I'm done."

Hermione sighed heavily, opening her eyes a little to be sure he wasn't lying again, then allowed herself to relax against the back of the chair.

"You did so good," Draco cooed, perching on the armrest and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "So good, baby."

Hermione simply nodded, leaning heavily against him and taking deep breaths.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I don't think so. Are you alright?" she reached up to touch his bruised face.

"I'm fine," he promised. "Fleur patched me up while you were having your secret meeting. She left a sleeping potion for you, do you want to take it now?"

Hermione shook her head quickly, reaching out to take Draco's hand.

"Hermione, when was the last time you slept?"

"I've been busy," she shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant. "You know, Dark Lord to take down, idiots to keep alive, torture to withstand."

Draco winced at the mention of torture and Hermione looked down at her hands awkwardly.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean-"

"I know," he threaded his fingers through hers. "You need to sleep, love. Look, it's Dreamless Sleep, you'll wake up in a few hours and have no idea you even closed your eyes."

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek nervously, staring listlessly at their intertwined fingers.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked quietly.

"Just try to get rid of me," Draco kissed her forehead, then slipped the vial into her hand. "Lay down, love, I'll be here the whole time."

* * *

When the potion wore off, the nightmares came for her with a vengeance just as Draco had known they would.

"Hermione," he shook her awake harshly. "Hermione, wake up!"

"No!" she screamed, bolting upright and scrambling off the bed, only to get caught in the sheets.

"Hey, hey," Draco held up his hands and spoke softly, giving her space to breath. "It's okay. You're alright. She's gone now."

Hermione didn't seem to hear him, too focussed on disentangling herself and getting to safety. Once she had managed to free herself, she fled to the farthest corner of the room and curled into a ball.

"Hermione, you're okay," Draco repeated, his tone quiet, but firm. "It's me, Draco."

"No, no, no," she tried to make herself as small as possible, shrinking further and further back.

"Hermione, look at me," Draco moved carefully towards her. "You're alright. That bitch is gone now, she can't hurt you anymore. You're alright."

He crouched in front of her and placed his hand over hers, wincing when she flinched at his touch.

"It's okay," he reassured her. "Everything's alright now. I'm here, I've got you."

Slowly but surely he pulled her into his arms, though she didn't unfurl herself.

"You're alright now," he promised, stroking her hair softly. "You're alright, I've got you. I've got you."

As her frantic cries changed to muffled whimpers, he felt her relax into him, her hands moving from her knees to grip his arm.

"I've got you," Draco repeated. "You're alright, I've got you."

"Draco," Hermione finally whimpered.

"I'm right here," he promised. "I've got you."

"The sword," she said. "Bellatrix-"

"She's gone," Draco shook his head. "She can't hurt you anymore."

Hermione nodded slowly, finally looking around.

"We're at Bill and Fleur Weasley's," he reminded her.

She nodded again, the events of the day catching up to her.

"Luna and Dean?"

"They've moved to another safe house. One of the twins came to get them, along with Mr. Ollivander."

"M-my wand," Hermione looked around the room, panic in her eyes again. "Where's my wand?"

"It got taken back at the Manor," Draco said apologetically. "But Potter disarmed everyone and brought the wands with him. I can try to find it."

"No!" her already vice-like grip on his arm tightened even more at the mention of being left alone, and Draco was quick to respond, holding her even tighter against his chest.

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere. Don't worry."

Hermione let out a sound that was somewhere between a deep breath and a laugh, and Draco smiled sadly.

"Well, do your best."

"I'll try," she looked up at him and smiled weakly. "You're okay?"

"Right as rain," he kissed her forehead. "We both are."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Well, we will be," Draco shrugged. "Come on, let's get you back in bed, you're shivering."

"I can't sleep," Hermione shook her head frantically. "I can't see her again."

"Who said anything about sleep?"

Draco donned that irreprehensible smirk Hermione had grown to love so much and she felt the swell of panic dissipate slightly, replaced by the sheer joy of having him back in her arms.

"Talk to me," she ordered once they were settled under the covers, her head resting against his shoulder. "It's too quiet."

"What do you want me to talk about?" Draco asked.

"Anything," Hermione shrugged. "Everything. Tell me."

"Hermione-" he shook his head, knowing what she meant.

"Tell me," she repeated, turning so that they were face to face.

Draco looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He'd always known that he would have to tell her, but now didn't exactly seem like the best time.

"Tell me," Hermione reached up to stroke his cheek, guiding his face down to hers and kissing him softly.

"Stop that," he frowned, trying not to meet her eyes. "You're not playing fair."

Hermione smirked and kissed him again.

"Please," she whispered against his lips, smiling when his shoulders sagged in surrender.

"What do you want to know?" he sighed.

"When we split up, what happened next?"

Draco's eyes closed again, his body tensing at the prospect of revealing the last year to his girlfriend.

"It's okay," Hermione leaned against him, her arms wrapped around his torso.

Draco smiled and allowed his hand to graze up and down her arm as he began to speak, deciding it would just be easiest to get everything out in one shot.

"Snape took me back to the Manor," he started. "I tried to keep my head down as much as possible, but it's not exactly easy when Snake Eyes is living in your house. And he wasn't exactly psyched that Severus was the one to kill Dumbledore- the first couple of weeks were rough."

Hermione twined their fingers together, feeling his heartrate increase.

"Snape was instated as the new Headmaster at Hogwarts, and there were all kinds of new laws put in place."

"We heard about that," Hermione nodded.

"Did you hear about the torture squads?"

She nodded again.

"The Carrows were in charge, but they had me leading a group of Slytherin students in Sixth and Seventh year. I did my best to keep the younger kids safe, but there are so many who still believe in him..." he shook his head sadly. "Theo and Blaise tried to help me. Theo's never wanted anything to do with the Deatheaters and Blaise's family has done their best to remain neutral, but they saw what I was doing. Between the three of us we were able to keep most of the kids safe, especially with Weasley and her gang running through the castle and causing havoc- at least until the holidays."

"What happened?"

"The Order must have realized that the Weasleys were being watched, and put them in hiding. Once she was gone, the student body started getting smaller and smaller. Longbottom disappeared first and we assumed that he had been taken, but neither Theo or I heard anything about it, so we figured he must have gone into hiding. Then more students started disappearing."

"What do you mean, disappearing?" Hermione asked concernedly.

"You would see them at breakfast, or in class, then they'd be in trouble and you wouldn't find a trace- not that we minded. It's difficult faking the Cruciatus curse convincingly, even using legilimency."

"Where did they go?"

"I have no idea," Draco shook his head. "But I know they haven't been found- at least not by anyone in the castle. But most of Weaselette's army has disappeared to wherever it is, so I assume they've found a way to contact the Order."

"We should ask Bill," Hermione mused. "Maybe he knows where they are, or at least if they're alright."

"I wouldn't worry about them too much," Draco tried to reassure her. "If any of them had been killed, it would have been headline news. Most of them are labelled Bloodtraitors, Snake Eyes would be thrilled to scream it from the rooftops- especially if he got Longbottom."

"Why Neville?" Hermione frowned.

"Have you ever met his grandmother?"

"Once," she nodded. "Briefly."

"Well, she's a force of nature, that one," Draco explained, a mischevious grin on his face. "She's been making life just a little difficult for the Deatheaters. Put Dawlish in the hospital when he came after her."

"Well done, Augusta," Hermione chuckled.

"I certainly thought so," Draco agreed. "Neville went into hiding the same night she did, and since then I've just been trying to keep everyone alive. I don't know what will happen now that I'm gone."

He stared at the wall vacantly, but Hermione could tell how much it pained him to think about the children he had been forced to leave at the mercy of Snape and the Carrows.

"You did everytthing you could," she tried to comfort him. "And you said Theo and Blaise were helping keep them safe. They're not going to stop."

"I know," Draco nodded. "But now that everyone knows I was a turncoat, who knows if they'll trust the others."

"If everything goes to plan, you won't have to worry for long," Hermione sighed.

"What are you talking about?" Draco frowned.

"Harry has a plan," she explained. "If it works, this will all be over soon."

"What kind of plan?"

"The kind that I can't tell you about," she smiled apologetically.

"Because it would make me want to lock you in a basement and chain you up to stop you from doing it, or because he doesn't trust me?"

"Because no one can know about it."

"You know," Draco huffed. "The whole, mysterious woman thing was fun when it first started, but I have to admit I'm not as fond of it now."

"I know," Hermione snuggled further into his side, listening closely to the steady drum of his heartbeat. "It'll be over soon, though, and I'll be able to tell you everything."

"I hope so," he sighed, pressing his lips to her hair. "I hate that you have to keep all these secrets."

"It's not like before," she offered. "At least I have Ron and Harry to talk about it with. It's not like when we first became friends."

"It doesn't matter," Draco shook his head. "The secrets will eat at you until there's nothing left."

"I won't let that happen," Hermione promised.

"Neither will I," he kissed her.


	18. Chapter 17

Hermione and Draco slept fitfully until the sun started to rise again, tossing and turning and waking each other from nightmares. Hermione bled through the bandages on her arm twice, and when the potions eventually wore off she found herself in so much pain she could barely breath.

Draco woke at the sound of her whimpering, thinking she'd had another nightmare, only to find her paralyzed by the pain leftover from taking the Cruciatus so many times.

"Shh, shh, I'm sorry," he tried to sooth her, rushing around the room to find a potion to help her.

Hermione lay as still as she could, every movement bringing unbearable pain.

"Here," Draco lifted her head carefully, wincing as she cried out. "I know, I'm sorry. It'll be better in a minute."

He stroked her hair softly as the potion took effect, letting out a relieved sigh when he felt her muscles relax and saw the pain seep from her face.

"I'm sorry, I should have given you another dose earlier," he shook his head.

"It's fine," Hermione shook her head. "I forgot about it too."

"You've bled through the bandages again," Draco frowned at her arm. "That shouldn't be happening anymore. I'm going to get Fleur, she seems to know a bit more about healing than I do."

"No," she shook her head again, grabbing his arm. "Just- just stay here for a minute."

He realized that she was panting, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong? What is it?" he demanded, his eyes raking across her body for further injuries.

"Nothing, it's just the potions," she assured him, sitting up slowly. "I'm just a little out of breath."

"You're sure?" Draco asked, still looking worried.

"I'm sure," she smiled softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he rolled his eyes. "It's _you_ we're worried about right now."

"No, _you're_ worrying about me," Hermione shook her head. " _I'm_ worrying about you. That's how relationships work, if I remember correctly."

"If you say so," Draco frowned. "But I think you're wrong."

"I'm never wrong," she patted his cheek a little harder than he thought necessary. "Haven't you heard? I'm an insufferable know-it-all."

"I wouldn't love you if you weren't," he chuckled, kissing her softly.

Eager to make up for the months they had lost, now that she wasn't in pain, Hermione was quick to pull him closer, her fingers tangling in his hair. Draco was more than happy to comply with her wishes, wanting nothing more than to feel her lips on his until the end of time, but before they could get too enthralled with each other there was a sharp knock and the bedroom door opened.

"Good you're u- ugh!" Harry stepped into the room and clamped a hand over his eyes. "Malfoy, get off her! It's too early to feel this sick."

"Morning, Potter," Draco frowned.

"Yeah, hi. Hermione, are you alright?" Harry asked, trying to see his friend around Draco.

"Fine," she forced a smile, earning a glare from her boyfriend. "Is Fleur up?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry nodded distractedly. "She just sent me to see if you were up. She wanted to make sure you were taking the pain potions."

"Definitely," Hermione laughed breathlessly. "Yeah. I just took one."

"Okay, good," Harry nodded again, obviously extremely uncomfortable with the situation he had just walked in on. "Um, well, there's breakfast whenever you're ready. And then we need to, you know, talk."

"I'll be there soon."

Understanding that he had been dismissed, Harry nodded quickly and stepped back into the hallway, though he left the door open.

"Wow," Draco scoffed. "I feel like we've just been caught by your father."

"He's just... wary," Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I mean, he was good about it when I told him, for the most part- far better than Ron- but it's still an adjustment. You just have to give him time."

"Yeah, we didn't get around to talking about that last night, did we? Care to share?"

"Later," she smiled. "It's kind of a long story. We should get up now."

"You need to let me rebandage your arm," Draco frowned.

"Just leave it for now," Hermione shook her head. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," he shook his head. "Its practically dripping."

"Draco, please, just leave it," she begged. "I don't want to deal with it right now."

"At least let me wrap the bandages," he huffed. "If I don't, you're going to get blood everywhere."

Hermione gave him an annoyed glare, but held out her arm to let him wrap another layer of bandages.

"Oh, you're still here," Ron grumbled as Draco and Hermione walked into the dining room.

"Ron, behave," his sister-in-law hissed.

"I am," he frowned. "I just didn't expect him to be here still."

"Where did you think he was going to go?" Hermione glared at him, sitting down in the chair Draco held out for her.

"I don't know, back to the pit he crawled out of," Ron shrugged.

Harry kicked his friend in the shin, making him jump.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione pursed her lips. "Fleur, would you mind taking a look at my arm again?"

"Of course," the blonde woman nodded. "Eez eet 'urting you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm just not an expert in healing," Hermione waved her off, ignoring the pointed look Draco was giving her.

"Okay, I will look at eet after you 'ave eaten zomezing," Fleur nodded. "Ere, 'ave zome toast."

"Oh, I'm not really hungry," Hermione tried to wave the plate off, but stopped when she saw the looks she was getting from the rest of the table. "But toast sounds good," she huffed.

"Zat eez what I zought," Fleur's smile bore a disconcerting resemblance to her mother-in-law's.

Silence fell over the table as Hermione picked at her breakfast, glaring at Draco each time he prodded her to take another bite.

"She doesn't need you telling her what to do," Ron growled when he noticed this.

"Ron," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What?!" his friend demanded. "How is it not driving you nuts watching him push her around?!"

"He's not pushing her around, he's telling her to eat," Harry said calmly. "We've both done it on multiple occassions, he's just worried about her."

"We're all worried about her," Ron snapped. "And it's his fault-"

"ENOUGH!" Hermione's fist slammed down on the table as she stood, startling everyone. "That's enough!"

"Hermione-" Draco reached out to her, but she ripped her hand away from him.

"NO!" she snapped. "No, I'm not going to sit here and let him talk about you like that! None of this is Draco's fault, Ron. Without him we would be dead, so you can take your self-righteous, goaded, judgemental attitude and shove it up your arse! Draco and I are a couple, and Draco is a member of the Order, deal with it!"

Hermione glared around the table when she finished, Bill and Harry watching her with their mouths hanging open while Ron stared at his hands, refusing to meet her eyes as she dared him to keep arguing.

"Okay," he finally sighed.

"Okay?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he looked up at her. "Okay. I get it. I get that you and Malfoy are... whatever you are, and I get that you think he's a good guy, I don't agree with you, but I get it. What I don't get, is why you told Harry and not me?"

"Honestly?" she sat back down, relaxing slightly as Ron's temper dissipated. "Because you weren't there to tell, and I knew that you would be angry, and I just couldn't deal with that. There are far more important issues at hand."

"Why would you assume that I would be angry?" Ron asked, crossing his arms petulantly.

"Because you _are_ angry! This is what anger looks like."

"Yeah, I know. I- I'm not angry at you though," he deflated again. "I just- I need time to digest this."

"Digesting doesn't include screaming bloody murder."

"I know," he nodded. "I know, I'm sorry. You don't deserve that- especially not right now. I- I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," she smiled softly, reaching across the table to take his hand. "I know this is an adjustment, and I don't expect you all to become best mates suddenly, I'm just asking you to trust me and know that I know what I'm doing."

"I _do_ trust you," Ron assured her. "Of course I trust you. It's just- it's _Malfoy._ "

"That, right there," Hermione frowned. "That's the tone that makes me want to smack you."

"I don't think there's anything he can do about the tone," Harry offered.

"Maybe not, but he can do something about the face he makes when he says Draco's name," Hermione snapped.

"I don't know if he can," the blond man finally spoke up. "I think his face looks like that all the time."

"Draco, be quiet," his girlfriend hissed. "I can only deal with one petty man at a time."

He held his hands up in apology and went back to picking at the plate of eggs Fleur had given him.

"If you trust me, you'll stop looking at Draco like he's a murderer and accept that he's on our side," Hermione said with finality.

Ron looked like he wanted to argue this fact, but a quick glance around the room told him that would be a mistake. Not only did Hermione look like she was about to hex him, but the rest of the room seemed to be on her side and he didn't have a lot of good will left with his brother after running out on his friends before Christmas. Knowing when to admit his losses, he took a few deep breaths and nodded.

"I trust you," he huffed.

"Thank you," Hermione smiled again. "So, can this be the end of fighting about Draco?"

"For now," Ron acquiesced. "I maintain the right to fight about him when there are less important things to deal with."

"And I maintain the right to hex your bollocks off," Hermione shrugged.

Draco couldn't help himself, when he saw the blood drain from Weasley's face and the panicked look in his eyes, he burst out laughing.

"I don't know what you find so amusing," Hermione turned on him. "The same goes for you. And you-" she turned to Harry.

Both men turned as pale as Ron and nodded tersely, their hands moving to cover themselves of their own accord.

"Right, now that that's settled, Fleur would you mind taking a look at this?"

"Of course," she smiled, not bothering to hide her amusement. "Come with me."

She led Hermione out of the dining room and upstairs to her own bedroom, summoning her healing supplies and setting to work to figure out why the cuts were still bleeding.

While the girls were upstairs, Draco took the opportunity to ask Bill Weasley about the missing students at Hogwarts.

"Have they contacted the Order?" he asked. "Are they safe?"

"They have," Bill assured him. "Longbottom's got eveything under control, says they're perfectly safe."

"That's good," Draco smiled. "We were worried."

"We?" Harry asked, trying not to sound to judgemental.

"Not every Slytherin is a Deatheater," Draco said. "Some of us are just trying to make it to graduation alive."

"Like who?" Ron asked, a disbelieving frown on his face.

"Like the ones who have spent the last year protecting the students that the Carrows haul in for punishments," Draco sneered. "The ones who hide first and second years in broom closets to keep them from being on the receiving end of Unforgivables."

"And these are Slytherin students?" Bill asked, his tone not exactly accusatory, but not as aghast as Ron or Harry's.

"Yes, they're Slytherins," Draco frowned. "They're the only ones who can get away with it. The other houses are too busy trying to keep themselves safe. The Carrows don't even care about blood status anymore, they just like hexing kids."

"So Crabbe and Goyle have been running around hiding little firsties in broom closets?" Ron scoffed.

"No, not them," Draco sighed. "They're as bad as the Carrows."

"Who then?" Harry asked. "If they're trying to help, the Order can offer them protection."

"No they can't," Draco shook his head. "Not right now, at least."

"But they will when things come to a head," Bill reasoned. "If there are kids fighting against their family beliefs, you need to tell us. We can make sure they're safe in the long run."

"Hermione said we have to trust you," Harry said. "That means you have to trust us too. If there's a way the Order can help, Bill will make sure they do."

Draco studied the men in front of him, weighing the costs and benefits of giving up his friends- even if it was for their own safety.

"You can trust me," Bill said. "I swear, I'll make sure they're safe."

From the corner of his eye, Draco caught a glimpse of Hermione standing in the doorway and saw her give an almost imperceptible nod.

"Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and the Greengrass sisters," he sighed.

"Thank you," Bill said sincerely, getting to his feet and clapping Draco on the shoulder. "I have a meeting planned with Kingsley this afternoon, I'll be sure to discuss plans for their safety."

"They don't need to be kept safe now," Draco shook his head. "We play the part perfectly well. What we need is protection when this is all over."

"And you'll have it," Bill promised. "All of you."


	19. Chapter 18

Draco and Hermione barely saw each other in the weeks at Shell Cottage, despite the small space. Hermione spent all her waking hours locked in a room with Ron, Harry and Griphook planning whatever secret schemes they had planned, while Draco sat with Bill and Kingsley for hours on end giving them all the information he could on the current Deatheater situation. The only time the two of them spent together was at night, where they kept each other safe from the nightmares, but it was enough. At least they were together- until they weren't.

* * *

The morning that Hermione and the boys left, Draco almost bit straight through his tongue trying to stop himself from begging her to stay with him.

"I'll come back to you," she promised, leaning her forehead against his as they said their goodbyes. "It's all going to be over soon, and we'll be together."

"I know," Draco forced a smile. "We'll be together soon."

"Hermione," Harry knocked on the door cautiously. "Hermione, we have to go."

"I'll be right there," she called back, squeezing her eyes shut.

"It's okay," Draco pulled her into a tight hug. "You need to go."

"Yeah," she breathed deeply, trying to memorize every last inch of him.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him soundly, her hands tangling in his hair while his own hands wrapped tightly around her waist. When they'd both run out of breath, she pushed away from him quickly, trying to hide her tears.

"Wait," Draco grabbed her wrist and pulled her back towards him before she could turn the doorknob.

"Draco-"

"I love you," he said. "I just- I need you to know that."

"I love you too," Hermione whispered, burying her face in his chest one last time.

And then she was gone.

* * *

"You look like you could use un ami," Fleur offered as she made lunch, tired of watching Draco sit at the table moping.

"I'm fine," he tried to wave her off, but the French woman wasn't buying it.

"I can see ze way you look at 'er," she smiled kindly. "You are most definitely not fine. If it were Bill and I, I would need to talk."

"I guess," Draco shrugged.

"So," Fleur waved her spoon in a 'go ahead' gesture. "I am offering to be your friend."

"I don't really have friends," Draco frowned uncertainly.

"That's not surprising," Bill quipped, wandering into the room.

"No, out!" Fleur whacked him with her spoon, making her husband jump.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"For being an arse 'ole," she snapped. "Now, go do somezing useful."

"Merlin woman, you could just ask, you know," Bill huffed, taking an apple and heading outside.

"Parfait," she set the stove to cook on its own and took a seat across from Draco. "So, out with eet."

"Out with what?" he sighed.

"Whatever eet ees you need to let out," Fleur shrugged.

Draco hemmed and hawed over this for a few minutes, not used to people offering to be a listening ear for him, and not knowing whether or not he could trust her. He barely knew this woman, after all.

"Draco, I may not know 'Ermione very well, but I know zat she cares about you. She would not want you to stir like zis."

She was right about that, if nothing else. Hermione hated it when he kept all his thoughts and emotions to himself, she was always telling him to speak his mind. When he still said nothing, however, Fleur thought it best to give him something specific to talk about.

"I deed not spend much time at 'Ogwarts, but I know you and 'Ermione were not close. What 'appened?"

"She found me having a nervous breakdown and offered to help," Draco smiled fondly at the memory. "I kept trying to get rid of her, but she's too stubborn for her own good."

"You sound like Bill. When 'e was bitten, 'e spent months trying to get rid of me," Fleur shared. "Men like you, you need women like 'Ermione and I."

"Yeah, that's what she said."

"Well, zey don't call 'er ze brightest witch of ze age for nozing," Fleur grinned. "You love her."

It was a statement, not a question, and Draco found himself nodding immediately.

"When deed you know?"

* * *

They had been working on the cabinet for a few weeks, and they were slowly getting more comfortable with each other. If nothing else, their arguments had become far less violent, and they were willing to at least share small pieces of information about themselves.

"If only it had been a wardrobe instead of a cabinet," Hermione sighed wistfully.

"Is there really a difference?" Draco asked in a bored tone.

"Of course there is. One would have fulfilled a childhood dream of mine, the other is simply dull."

"Your childhood dream was to spend your every waking hour worrying about fixing a useless and, quite frankly, ugly antique?" he smirked.

"No, Malfoy," Hermione glared. "I wanted to find a magical wardrobe that would transport me to a far off land."

"You had a rather active imagination as a child, didn't you Granger?"

"Don't be a prick," she chided. "There was a muggle book series that I read when I was little about a magical wardrobe that transported a girl and her siblings to a far off magical land, and I always wanted to find a wardrobe like that."

"Well in that case," Draco got to his feet and gave her a deep bow, gesturing comically to the cabinet. "Your wish is granted. Use the next two wisely."

Hermione laughed despite herself, shaking her head at the absolute ridiculousness of the situation, and then she thought about what he'd just said.

"Hang on, what do you mean 'two more wishes'?"

"Are you not familiar with the concept of a genie, Granger?"

"Oh, I'm perfectly familiar with the concept," she assured him. "I'm wondering how _you_ are. Genies are muggle folklore, they don't have a wizarding equivalent."

"I'm aware of that," Draco assured her. "I'm not as sheltered as I appear, Granger. I've read my share of muggle novels."

He wasn't looking at her, but Draco could tell by the silence that she was staring at him in shock.

"Don't look so surprised," he drawled.

"You're not even looking at me!"

"That's how palpable the surprise is."

"Well, can you blame me?" she asked. "The great Draco Malfoy, pureblood of all purebloods, admitting that he's read classic muggle literature? It's a bit shocking."

"No more shocking than the great Hermione Granger helping a Deatheater."

"Don't call yourself that," she snapped, making it Draco's turn to look surprised. "And don't give me that look."

"You're not even looking at me," Draco echoed her earlier statement.

"I think we've spent enough time together in the last month that I know what your face looks like," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't know if I would qualify what's happening here as a friendship, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you call yourself that."

"Why?" he scoffed. "It's true."

"It's not!" Hermione insisted.

" _This_ would beg to differ," he sneered, ripping his sleeve open to bare the Dark Mark on his arm.

"Oh please," Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's nothing more than some magically imbued ink. You're no more a Deatheater than I am."

She said it with such conviction, as though she had never even thought twice about whether or not it was true. And then she just turned back to analyzing the cabinet, as if she hadn't just turned Draco's entire life on end.

"Are you going to stare at me for the rest of the night, or are you going to help?" she called over her shoulder after another minute of silence. "Because if I get this working without you, you'd better believe I'm going to take the credit- fuck the Dark Lord."

* * *

"That was when," Draco finished his story, a reminiscent smile on his face. "I mean, I didn't know it then, but now that I think about it, that was the moment."

"A razer spectacular one at zat," Fleur chuckled. "Was zat really ze phrase she used- Fuck ze Dark Lord?"

"Yeah," he laughed along with her. "It became a kind of mantra for us."

"Inspiring," Fleur nodded approvingly.

"What's inspiring?" Bill joined them again, taking a seat beside his wife.

"Didn't I kick you out?" she frowned at him.

"It didn't stick," he shrugged. "So, Malfoy, what's inspiring?"

"Mine and Hermione's mantra."

"Which is?"

"Fuck ze Dark Lord," Fleur giggled. "C'est magnifique!"

"Well I can't argue with that," Bill chuckled along with her. "Why didn't we think of it- _don't_ answer that!"

Draco smiled and put his hands up in compliance.

"So, what's for lunch?" Bill asked, getting up and sniffing around the hob.


	20. Chapter 19

When the call came out over the wireless informing them that Harry was at Hogwarts, Draco had never been happier. If Potter was at Hogwarts, that meant Hermione was too.

"We have to go!" he insisted childishly, pushing Bill towards the fireplace.

"Calm down," the redhead rolled his eyes. "Just wait a second."

"No, we have to help them!" Draco argued. "Come on!"

"We will go in un moment," Fleur patted his arm. "First, we must contact Arthur and Molly."

While Bill floo-called his parents, Draco paced the kitchen, wand in hand.

"Who is that?" Arthur asked, noticing the movement behind his son.

"Draco Malfoy," Bill chuckled.

"WHAT!" Ginny Weasley shoved her father out of the way, sticking her own head through the fire. "What in Merlin's saggy left bollock is _he_ doing there?!"

"You really do make friends wherever you go, don't you mate?" Bill turned to give Draco an amused smile.

"It's a talent," he said sarcastically. "Can we speed this up?"

"WHY IS HE IN YOUR HOUSE?!" Ginny screeched, not one to be ignored.

"Because he's on our side Ginevra," Bill huffed. "He's been spying for the Order since last year."

"Yeah right," she scoffed. "You seriously let him play you like that?"

"Hey, Hermione was the one that brought home the stray," her brother shrugged. "You can take it up with her."

"What?!"

"We'll see you soon," Bill smirked and stepped away from the flames, allowing them to extinguish.

" _Now_ can we go?!" Draco demanded.

"Merlin, you're a child," Bill rolled his eyes.

"'E is just worried about 'Ermione," Fleur smiled understandingly. "Let 'im be, Bill."

She patted Draco's arm again, then lead them all through the floo to the Hog's Head, where Aberforth Dumbledore stood waiting for them.

"Interesting company you're keeping, Weasley," Aberforth quipped, looking Draco up and down.

"Yeah, my little brother brought him home one night, always wanted a pet."

"Ha ha," Draco sneered. "Where's Hermione?"

"Right through there, lad," Aberforth pointed to a large hole in the wall. "It'll take you into the school."

He was up and through the tunnel before the bar owner had even finished speaking, forcing Bill and Fleur to jog to catch up to him.

"I am sure she eez fine," Fleur offered.

"Because she was so fine last time?" Draco snapped. "We don't even know where they were."

"Well, you're about to find out," Bill stopped at the end of the tunnel, a doorway appearing before them. "Best let me go in first, though."

Draco nodded and took a step back, allowing Bill and Fleur to enter the room ahead of him so as to stop anyone from trying to kill him. Unfortunately, his arrival with the eldest Weasley brother had no effect on the way his fellow students reacted, and Draco was met by various outraged cries and raised wands.

Bill and Fleur both spoke over the crowd, trying to explain that everything was fine, but it was Hermione that brought silence to the room as she sprinted forward and threw herself at him, kissing him soundly.

"Told you I'd come back," she smirked against his lips.

Draco didn't bother answering her, he simply buried his face in her hair and relished in the feeling of holding her in his arms. Could it really have only been a day since he'd last seen her?

"Are you okay?" he finally asked, taking a step back so he could look at her properly.

"I'm fine," she promised. "Everything went... relatively to plan."

Draco must have made a face at this comment, because she smiled softly and patted his cheek.

"I promise, I'll tell you everything, but right now we don't have time."

They turned to face the many eyes watching their every move and Hermione threaded her fingers through his, smiling.

"Draco has been working for the Order since last year," she assured everyone. "He's on our side, I promise."

"We had our suspicions," Neville admitted, appearing beside them. "What with the way you refused to torture anyone."

He held his hand out, to everyone's surprise- especially Draco's. The blonde hadn't even realized that he was staring until Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, jarring him from his stupor.

"Uh, thanks," he took Neville's outstretched hand and shook it.

"We're all on the same side now," Neville shrugged. "Bygones, and all that. Anybody have any objections?"

He turned and looked around the room at the stunned, angry faces, and while many people looked like they desperately wanted to protest, nobody did.

"Good," Neville nodded and stepped down from the doorway, the others following behind him as the door swung open again to reveal the rest of the Weasley clan.

"Hermione Jean Granger!" Ginny screeched, rushing down the steps to catch up to the curly haired brunette. "What in Merlin's name is going on?!"

"Hi Ginny," Hermione pulled the girl into a hug, then turned her to face the other side of the room. "Harry's missed you."

"Oh!" All else was forgotten as the girl caught site of Potter watching her every move from across the room, and she pushed past to get to him.

"Nice save," Bill smiled. "She just about hexed him through the fireplace earlier."

"Well I'm rather attached," Hermione shrugged. "It'd be a shame if she ruined such a pretty face."

"Thanks," Draco rolled his eyes, taking her hand again.

As Ginny and Harry embraced, more people started coming through the passage and more and more questions were shouted. When Fred and George Weasley eventually separated their sister from her 'specky git boyfriend', Harry was forced to pay attention to the room at large- only to make them even angrier by saying they weren't there to fight.

"Then what are you here for?" Draco leaned down to whisper to Hermione.

"Wait, why can't they help?" Ron muttered, pulling Harry aside.

"What are you talking about?" Harry hissed. "We can't tell them anything."

"Harry, you said yourself that we don't have time," Hermione joined them. "We don't have to tell them what it is, but we could use their help finding it."

Harry seemed to consider this, then nodded and faced the crowd again. Draco didn't really paying attention until Luna spoke up about the Diadem of Ravenclaw.

"She's kidding, right?" he looked down at Hermione again. "I mean, that's- a legend, a story."

"It is not," Luna argued. "It's simply lost, which means it can be found. There's a statue of it in our common room."

"Great, can you show me?" Harry asked.

"I'd love to," she beamed. "Come on."

Without another moment's hesitation, the lighthearted blonde girl took Harry by the hand and led him towards a door on the opposite end of the room, which they disappeared through.

As soon as they had disappeared, Ron and Hermione shuffled off to a corner of the room and began muttering furiously, obviously arguing about something.

"What's that about?" Neville appeared at Draco's shoulder suddenly, nodding towards the bickering pair.

"I have no idea," Draco frowned. "But it doesn't look good."

The pair argued for another moment, then Hermione smacked Ron in the back of the head and the redheaded man slumped in apparent agreement, following her towards the door Harry and Luna had exited through.

"OI!" Draco stormed after them, reaching out to grab Hermione's wrist before she could get too far. "Where are you going?"

"We have to get something," she answered vaguely. "From the second floor toilets. We'll be back, I promise."

She kissed Draco on the cheek quickly, then ran off before he could try to stop her again.

"Hermione!" Ginny Weasley started to chase the girl, but was cut off by one of her brothers. "Where the hell are they going?"

"She said something about a bathroom," Draco shook his head. "I don't know."

"Then what bloody use are you?!" she snapped, turning on her heels and storming back to the group gathered underneath a Gryffindor banner.

* * *

As there wasn't a space for Slytherin, Draco skulked around the edges of the room quietly, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. It wasn't until Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin stepped into the room that anyone really took note of him.

"So, it seems that tonight is the night," Kingsley said. "How do you feel, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I'm ready for all of this to be over," Draco sighed, rubbing his Dark Mark through his shirt. "He knows Potter is here. He's coming, and he's bringing everything he's got."

Before they could ask any more questions, Potter stormed into the room again, drawing everyone's attention.

"What's going on Harry?" Professor Lupin spoke up first.

"He's coming," Harry panted. "We're barricading the school- Snape's run for it. How did you know, though?"

"We called in the rest of the Order," one of the Weasley twins spoke up. "Couldn't keep all the fun for ourselves. So, what now?"

"They're evacuating the younger kids," Harry said. "We're fighting!"

An almighty cheer went up at this announcement, followed by a rush of movement as everyone stormed towards the doors, eager to get involved.

* * *

In a matter of minutes, the crowd had thinned to include only the Weasley family, Lupin, Potter and Draco. Mrs. Weasley was arguing with her daughter, obviously intent on keeping her away from the fighting, while the rest of the family nodded in vague agreement. The youngest redhead had just declared that she would say her goodbyes and leave them all to die when a body fell out of the portrait hole, breathing heavily and looking around wildly.

"Have I missed it? Has it started?" the misplaced redhead asked.

All around Draco, the occupants of the room fell silent, staring at their missing family member in confusion.

"So, 'ow eez Teddy?" Fleur asked suddenly, turning to Lupin with a desperate look in her eye.

"Oh, uh- yes, yes, he's wonderful," Lupin stammered, patting down his pockets. "I, uh, have a photograph here, somewhere..."

While Fleur, Harry and Draco pretended to be interested in the child, Percy Weasley stammered an apology for abandoning his family. With the rest of her family distracted, Draco noticed Ginny trying to sneak up the stairs and bit back a smirk- she was certainly determined.

"GINNY!" her mother snapped, catching sight of the attempted escape. "Get back here!"

While Lupin tried to broker a deal with Ginny and her parents, in which the young redhead stayed in the room of requirment, but promised not to leave and join the battle, Harry pulled Draco aside.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" he asked, looking around the room. "I didn't see them pass me."

"They ran out a few minutes after you and Lovegood left, she said something about a bathroom," Draco shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Um, I guess I should go help evacuate the Slytherins?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry nodded, though Draco could tell he wasn't paying close attention. "You should do that, they'll listen to you."

Draco nodded and took his leave, more than happy to leave the Weasleys to their grovelling and crying. As he made his way down to the dungeons, Draco was careful to keep his head down, not wanting to be stopped by anyone who wasn't already aware of his allegiances. Thankfully the only person he ran into was Professor McGonagall, who gave him an encouraging smile before rushing off to assemble the ghosts.

When he got down to the Slytherin Dorms, he found the door inside wide open and a group of first and second years huddled outside.

"Draco!" a small boy ran over to him, leaving the others huddled in their corner. "You're back!"

"Yeah," he smiled tightly. "Where are Blaise and Theo?"

"Talking to Professor Slughorn," the boy pointed inside. "They made us leave. Professor Slughorn says we have to leave Hogwarts, but where are we going to go?"

"Don't worry," Draco patted his shoulder. "Everything's going to be alright. I'm going to talk to Professor Slughorn, alright? You go stay with the others and I'll explain everything soon."

He gave the first year a light shove towards his friends, then entered the common room cautiously.

"What are you doing here?!" Slughorn cried as soon as Draco stepped through the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. "We heard you had been killed!"

"Not even close," Draco shook his head. "Listen, you've heard what's going on?"

"Sluggy was just telling us," Blaise frowned. "McGonagall's flipped her lid or something."

"What?" Draco frowned at the ageing professor. "What are you on about? _He's_ coming, and they're getting ready to fight."

"And we're not invited," Professor Slughorn grumbled. "Unless we are all ready to declare our loyalties."

"Look around," Draco glared, motioning across the room. "I think our loyalties are pretty clear, do you see any of _his_ people here? Because I don't- I see a bunch of kids who are scared out of their minds and just want this all to be over."

There was a number of quietly mumbled agreements from the older students, all of whom were gathered in a corner, away from the arguments.

"McGonagall is right, it's time for us to take a side, do we want to live in a world under that bastard forever, or do we want to be free of him?"

"What do you want, Draco?" a third year girl spoke up, watching the proceedings nervously.

"I want to be able to live my life the way I want to," he said honestly. "I'm tired of living in fear, I have been for a long time, which is why I joined the Order of the Phoenix last year."

There was a collective gasp at this announcement, followed by quiet murmurs and shocked glances.

"The choice is yours," Draco continued, raising his voice. "And we all have to make that choice for ourselves, I can't make it for you and neither can Professor Slughorn, or your families, or anyone else. The choice has to be yours!"

He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each and every one of his remaining housemates.

"But you have to choose now. We're gathering in the Great Hall to find out what's going to happen next. It's your choice, but I for one will be standing by Potter and his army."

Without looking back, he turned and made his way out of the room again to speak to the younger children.

"You're with Potter?" a girl asked, her tone torn between disgust and confusion.

"I am," Draco nodded, crouching down so that he was eye-level with the group. "The Dark Lord, he's made me do some very bad things, things that I regret and would never want any of you to have to do. You've seen what the Carrows have been doing, right? The way they torture the other children?"

The group nodded, fear creeping into their eyes.

"I never want that to happen to anyone again," Draco told them. "And I don't want any of you to have to be scared anymore, that's why I'm going to fight with Potter. And you all are going to be sent away so that you're safe, okay?"

"What if we want to fight too?" a boy spoke up.

"You're not of age," Draco gave him a small smile. "Only those of age can stay and fight, but you can protect each other. You know how people feel about Slytherins, your fight is going to be showing them that we're not all like the Dark Lord. Do you think you can do that?"

Slowly, but surely, each and every one of the children in front of him nodded, their faces taking on the solemn expressions of men and women on a mission.

"Good," Draco smiled. "Then let's get to the Great Hall."

"We're coming too," Blaise stepped into the hall behind him, a large group at his back. "You're right, it's time to take a side."

* * *

When Pansy cried out for Potter's delivery to Voldemort, Draco could have killed her. He knew it was because she was scared, but hadn't he just given a rousing speech about choosing sides and declaring allegiances? Now, here she was making the entire house out to be Deatheaters. McGonagall certainly seemed to think so, as she ordered them all to be escorted from the castle.

There were multiple cries of outrage at this, but the Deputy Headmistress ignored them, turning her attention to her own outraged students, all of whom wanted to stay and show how brave they truly were. Draco had no doubt that more than one of them would find a way to fight, but he was more concerned about his own housemates.

"Listen to me!" he called them to attention. "Just because you're not staying here, doesn't mean you can't help. The other students are going to need to be taken care of, that's your job. Take care of each other, and take care of the other students- the half-bloods. We can't let house loyalties divide us now."

"Well said," Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared at his side.

"We need to start evacuating now," Draco mumbled, turning away from his housemates. "He won't wait much longer."

He winced as the mark on his arm began to burn, calling him to his master's service.

"Right," Kingsley sighed. "Lead your house out, then. When you've seen them all safely away, come join us again."

"Sir," Draco nodded and began leading his friends out, Blaise and Theo falling into step beside him.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us," Theo hissed. "Don't you trust us?"

"Of course I do," Draco glared at him. "But you and I both know that if I'd told you and it somehow slipped, we'd all be dead. As it is, I spent the last year focusing all my energy on occlumency, trying to keep that noseless bastard out of my head. I couldn't put that on anyone else, it was my burden to bear."

"Damn," Blaise hissed. "That's a good reason."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Listen, I've talked to Shacklebolt, told him that you lot have been taking care of the others, trying to keep everyone safe. They know where your allegiances lie."

"You say that now," Theo sighed. "But how are they going to feel about us tomorrow?"

"You'll be safe," Draco promised. "No matter what happens tonight, you'll all be safe."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Blaise shook his head. "None of us know what's goign to happen after tonight. We could all be dead in the morning."

"You can't think like that," Draco hissed. "If nothing else, you have to believe we have a chance."

"I want to," Blaise sighed. "But I know how this goes. We've all heard what happened the last time."

"It's going to be different."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Theo scoffed.

"I do," Draco agreed solemnly. "I really do."

As they reached the room of requirement, Draco passed in front of the entry three times, then pushed the door open and motioned for his House to go ahead of him.

"Malfoy, what the hell is this?!" Ginny cried, pushing her way through the sea of Syltherins.

"They're being evacuated," Draco explained. "Go show them the way out. The other house's underage students should be here any minute."

"And where do you think you're going?" Ginny demanded.

"To end this bloody mess," he sneered. "Have you got a problem with that?"

"Not if you take me with you," she smirked.

"Not on your life, Weasley," Draco shook his head. "Get the kids out safely, make sure none of your housemates can sneak back through the tunnel and get themselves killed."

He turned back to Theo and Blaise, a determined look in his eye.

"So, you still want to fight beside me?" he asked, remembering the many promises they had made to each other through the years that they would always have their backs.

"Well I can't exactly let you go out there alone," Theo huffed. "You'll get yourself killed in seconds."

Draco smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder, then turned to Blaise.

"I- I've got a plan to keep the others safe," he shook his head. "I'm going to go with them."

"One of your mother's houses?" Theo asked.

"Yeah, the one in Brighton has been empty for a few years now," he nodded. "They'll be safe there, all of them."

Draco nodded. "We'll find you when it's all over."

He held out his hand to Blaise, only to be pulled into a strong hug.

"You better not get yourself killed, Malfoy," he huffed. "It takes too long to train new friends."

"I won't if you don't," Draco promised.


	21. Chapter 20

It wasn't until everyone gathered in the Great Hall again that he really saw her. He had been staring at the doors for what seemed like hours, waiting for her to walk into the room. When she finally did, his breath caught in his throat and his feet moved of their own volition, rushing across the room to capture her in his arms.

"Thank Merlin," he breathed, holding her tightly. "You're alright. You _are_ alright, aren't you?"

He held her at arms length, studying her carefully as he had only a few hours earlier in the Room of Requirement.

"Why do you smell like fire? Is your hair burnt?!"

"Just a little singed," Hermione shook her head. "I'm fine, Draco, promise. What about you?"

"Nothing seeing you didn't fix," he forced a smile.

"You're sweet," she returned his smile, taking his face in her hands. "You're also paler than usual. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I've spent my night fighting people I spent my entire life looking up to, people I grew up with," he sighed. "I'm as okay as I can be, considering the circumstances. I'm better than others."

He turned to look at the Weasley family, all huddled around Fred's bedside, crying into each others' shoulders.

"Fred," Hermione bit her lip, trying to keep her tears at bay.

"It's okay," Draco pulled her into his arms again. "It's okay."

"It's not," she sniffed. "It's not okay! He's dead!"

"Shh," Draco stroked her hair, leading her over to the corner he and Theo had been sitting in and pulling her into his lap. "It's going to be alright."

Hermione shook her head again, her face buried in his shoulder, then she took a few deep breaths and sat up, wiping her eyes.

"I know," she nodded. "I know. It's not over yet, I can't do this yet."

"Hermione, it's okay to be upset-"

"No!" she snapped. "No, not until it's over. I can't fall apart until this is over."

"And when will that be?" Theo asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"Soon," she promised. "It will all be over soon."

The three of them sat quietly for a minute, watching over the carnage that surrounded them, taking deep breaths and trying to put together the nights events.

"Your parents," Hermione sat up suddenly, turning to Draco. "Well, your father at least, he's still alive."

"What? How do you know?"

"Harry saw,"she shook her head, awkwardly. "I can't really explain it properly, but he was with Voldemort- your father. He was worried about you."

"Well, that's a first," Draco scoffed.

"Better you than me," Theo quipped blandly. "I'm pretty sure I passed dear old Dad breathing his last in one of the corridors."

"Oh, Theo I'm sorry," Hermione turned to the other man sincerely.

"Don't be," he shook his head. "My only regret is that someone else got to him first, I was hoping to have the honours."

"I'm still sorry," Hermione frowned, not sure she believed that he was completely unaffected.

"Hermione," Ginny Weasley approached the group nervously, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Ginny!" Hermione jumped to her feet and pulled the younger girl into her arms. "I'm so sorry, what can I do?"

"I don't know," Ginny shook her head. "It's like it's not even real, you know?"

"Yeah," Hermone nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I know."

"I-I was looking for Harry," Ginny sniffed. "I thought he'd be with you."

"I thought he was with _you_ ," Hermione frowned.

"No," Ginny stepped back, a terrified look in her eyes. "Hermione, where is he?"

"I'm sure he's just stepped out for some air," the other girl promised, though Draco could tell she didn't believe this at all. "I'll go have a look, okay? You should go be with the others."

"You'll find him?"

"I'll find him." Hermione forced a smile, giving her friend another hug before pushing her back towards her family and turning to Draco.

"What's wrong?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"My best friend is an idiot," she hissed, a look of fury passing over her. "An honest to Merlin idiot and I swear to Morgana and all her bloody descendants that when I get my hands on him I'm going to kill him."

"Okay, take a breath," Draco put his hands on her shoulders. "Explain."

"He's gone to the forest," she said, hands shaking in a mixture of anger and turmoil. "He's gone to give himself up- to protect everyone."

"Are you sure?" Theo frowned.

"I'm sure," Hermione looked around desperately, her breathing getting faster. "I need to get out of here. I can't- I can't-"

She grabbed at her chest desperately, feeling as though the room was closing in around her.

"Come on," Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and whisked her outside, into the courtyard, where he leaned her against a wall. "It's okay, just take deep breaths."

"Harry," she panted, tears pouring down her cheeks again. "Harry, he-"

She shook her head, unable to say the words out loud.

"You don't know that," Draco shook his head, holding her steady. "You know Potter, he's like a cat with all his lives and quick exits and magic getaways."

"Not this time," Hermione shook her head. "I don't think even Harry can twist his way out of this."

* * *

They were helping carry the wounded into the castle when the army started approaching, the sound of hundreds of feet marching across the grounds drawing them outside to see what was going on.

"No," Hermione gasped as the Deatheaters got close enough to be seen. "No, Harry."

Before Draco could try to contradict her, Voldemort's high-pitched voice pierced the air.

"HARRY POTTER, IS DEAD!"

There were shrieks of disbelief and outrage, and from the corner of his eye Draco saw Ginny Weasley's father restrain her as she struggled to raise her wand, screaming vilely at the Dark Lord.

Draco wasn't listening to her, though, he was more focussed on the fact that his parents were standing fifty feet away from him, flanking their master, and Hermione's hand had slipped out of his somehow.

Ignoring the desperate look his mother was giving him, Draco turned away, desperately searching the crowd for Hermione. He found her a few feet away, whispering anxiously with Ron and breathed a momentary sigh of relief- the moment passed when he heard Voldemort call for everyone to declare their loyalty to him.

Silence fell over the courtyard as the seemingly defeated army looked around defiantly, none of them offering even the slightest hint of surrender.

"Draco," his father's voice echoed across the divide.

"Draco," his mother held out her hand to him pleadingly and he winced.

In an instant, Hermione was at his side again, one hand twining their fingers together, the other holding tightly to his bicep.

"Don't," she whispered. "Please, Draco. He'll kill you."

He nodded, knowing she was right, but unable to peel his eyes from the desperate look on his mother's face.

"Draco," Hermione's hand reached up and gently guided his face down to hers, their foreheads touching. "Look at me. Don't look at them, look at me."

It was like ripping part of his heart from his chest, but he did it, moving his eyes from the other side of the courtyard to the beautiful witch beside him, the woman he loved, his hand reaching up to cup her face.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, focussing on the feel of Hermione's hair between his fingers and her forehead against his, trying to block out his parent's desperate voices.

And then everything was silent and Voldemort's voice pierced through him like a knife, reminding him exactly why he was standing there. Harry Potter was dead, and it was time for Voldemort to die too.

"What do we do?" he asked, holding his wand tightly.

"The snake has to die," Hermione said quietly. "It's the only way for this to be over, Ron and I have to kill the snake. We have to keep fighting."

Draco nodded solemnly, his jaw set in determination.

He took Hermione's hand again and together they watched as Neville broke free of the crowd and was subsequently used as a lesson for others who would dare to defy the Dark Lord- and then all hell broke lose. Suddenly, Longbottom was no longer being taught a lesson, but breaking free of the curse set upon him and pulling a sword seemingly out of nowhere- the same sword Bellatrix had tortured Hermione for- and in the blink of an eye, Nagini was dead. Voldemort screamed in pain, turning his fury on the errant Gryffindor, only to be stopped by Potter.

And then everything was a blur. Fighting broke out amongst the two factions yet again, and it was all Draco could do to block the hexes and curses being aimed at himself and Hermione as they retreated into the castle. Throughout all the fighting, however, he never lost his hold on her hand, and he was thankful for that small blessing.

"Where's Harry?" she cried, looking around wildly for her friend. "Where's he gone?"

"I don't know- Duck!" Draco pushed her down and hexed a Deatheater that had snuck around the side of their lines.

"Nice one," Theo offered, hexing another foe over Draco's shoulder. "Perhaps some cover would do us good, though?"

"Get inside!" Harry's voice rose above the chaos. "Into the castle, everyone!"

One by one, Voldemort's most loyal subjects fell to the Hogwarts army, until there was only the Dark Lord left, circling Harry Potter like a predator about to pounce on his prey.

"I don't want anyone to help me," Harry announced, his eyes never leaving Voldemort's. "It's got to be just the two of us. No one else can help."

Knowing that this declaration of independence would do nothing to stop Hermione, Draco trapped her in a vice like grip, desperate to keep her from any more harm. He had lost too much, they all had, he wasn't about to lose her as well.

Judging by the way Hermione gripped his arm, however, it seemed that she was feeling the same way. He could feel the tiny crescent marks of her nails digging into his arm as they watched the last two fighters circle each other, unravelling all the secrets that had been kept since Voldemort's return.

And then it was over, and Voldemort was dead, and cheers went up as the entire room surged towards Potter, Hermione breaking free and tackling him in a hug before anyone else could reach him.


	22. Chapter 21

Draco wasn't new to the concept of celebrating, he'd had a part in his fair share of celebrations following Quidditch matches and such, but nothing could have prepared him for the almighty uproar that followed Potter's defeating Voldemort. It was as though the whole world slowed down and sped up, all at the same time. One moment Hermione's hand was clasped tightly in his, the next she was hurtling across the room and throwing herself at her best friend, only a few steps ahead of the rest of the room. Draco stood stock still, watching the scene play out before him as though through a pensieve, the shouts and whoops of victory echoing as though a million miles away.

He wasn't sure how, but eventually he found himself in the owlery sending a message to Blaise. When he returned, the chaos had subsided and a somber mood encased the Great Hall as the wounded were cared for and the dead identified.

He scanned the room and saw Hermione with the Weasley family, all huddled around the fallen son. A little ways away from them, he saw Potter moving from one bedside to the next, shaking each and every hand thrust towards him. Madame Pomfrey flitted between beds administering potions and healing spells, as did Fleur Weasley and another witch that Draco didn't recognize.

It wasn't until he turned to the farthest corner of the room, though, that Draco found who he was looking for.

"Hey," he slid to the floor beside Theo, relishing in the feeling of sitting after so many hours on his feet.

Theo didn't look at him, simply put his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"You alright?"

"Honestly?" his friend turned to look at him. "I've never felt lighter. Is that bad?"

"If it is, we're both guilty," Draco shrugged.

Theo nodded slowly, pulling his knees up and resting his arms on top of them.

The two boys sat like this, simply breathing in the tranquility that their lives had been lacking for so long, until they were joined by a witch with wild brown hair.

"I was wondering where you'd got to," Hermione smiled down at Draco warmly, running her fingers through his hair and scratching her nails across his scalp softly.

Draco leaned into her touch, his own hands wandering to her thighs and pulling her down to sit in his lap- it had been a long night and he just needed to hold her in his arms and know that she was safe. Hermione didn't hesitate to respond, settling comfortably between his legs with his arms wrapped tightly around her, her head resting against his shoulder calmly.

It wasn't until Theo let out a rather sharp cough that they realised how odd a picture they must have made- as far as most people knew, they hated each other.

"Something you'd like to share, mate?" Theo asked, eyebrows arched in question.

"Right, uh, Granger and I are dating," Draco offered lamely, his face turning red. "Did I not mention that before?"

"Must have slipped you mind. Exactly how long have you two been..." he waved between them vaguely, not sure exactly what he was trying to ask.

"A year."

"WHAT?!"

Hermione flinched as Theo jumped to his feet, instinctively reaching for her wand.

"Theo, calm down," Draco hissed. "You're drawing attention."

"I'm drawing attention?!" Theo laughed manically. "You're the one who's cuddled up with Hermione Granger."

"You're the one shouting loud enough for all of Hogsmeade to hear!" Draco argued. "Sit down, will you?"

Theo looked at his friend like he'd lost his mind, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, as though he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words. Eventually, however, he did sit and faced the couple expectantly.

"Well, I'm waiting for some sort of explanation," he huffed. "How the fuck did you hide the fact that you've been dating Granger for a year?!"

"With great care and plenty of scheming?" Draco shrugged, earning an elbow to the gut from the witch in his arms. "Ow!"

"Okay," Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and avoid punching his best friend in the teeth. "You took the mark last August, were given two tasks that almost killed you, and then spent the last year living with Snake Eyes."

"Correct."

"You were a Deatheater- a reluctant one," he clarified quickly. "But a Deatheater nonetheless. You're telling me that whole time, you were secretly in a relationship with the Gryffindor Princess here, and no one was any the wiser?"

"It wasn't the whole time," Draco argued lamely. "Just... most of it."

"I swear to Salazar, Malfoy, if you don't start connecting these dots I'm going to hex you," Theo growled, grinding his teeth in annoyance.

"We became friendly in January," Draco finally explained, figuring it best to start at the beginning. "Hermione stumbled upon me when I was trying to fix the cabinet and we got into an argument-"

"-You had a nervous breakdown," Hermione corrected quietly.

"Shh," Draco frowned at her. "We had an argument, one thing lead to another and I told her that He was trying to kill me."

"Okay," Theo waved his hand in a 'get to the point' motion.

"She offered to help me."

"Excuse me?" Theo frowned.

"I spilled my guts to her, sobbed like a baby, and she decided that she was going to help me fix the cabinet."

"Why in the actual fuck would you do that?" Theo demanded, looking to Hermione.

"He needed help," she shrugged as though she had done nothing more than offer to make him a cup of tea or drop off a book in the library.

Theo looked back at Draco incredulously and the blonde only shook his head.

"She's too stubborn for her own good," he shrugged. "There wasn't any talking her out of it."

"The phrase you're looking for, as usual, is 'thank you'," Hermione glared at her boyfriend.

"I _have_ thanked you," he argued. "Now hush, I'm telling a story."

Theo would have thought this admonishment would result in a stinging hex, but Hermione simply raised an eyebrow and settled back against the blonde man's chest, her hand holding tightly to the arm wrapped across her chest.

"Right, so she insisted that she was going to help me get the cabinet working," Draco went back to his story. "And things just sort of snowballed from there."

"How does an idiotic act of Gryffindor chivalry snowball into what appears to be a serious relationsip?" Theo scoffed.

"Slowly," Draco shrugged. "I don't know, we started talking and it was good having someone to talk to so we talked more. We were both isolated and trapped by circumstances, and it was nice having a friend on the outside of the chaos."

"So, let me get this straight," Theo pushed a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "She helped you fix the cabinet that allowed Deatheaters to come into the school and kill Dumbledore, knowing that was what she was doing all along?"

"Yes."

"Why would you do that?!" he cried, looking at Hermione once again.

"Because if I hadn't, Draco and his mother would have died," she glared at Theo, her tone full of venom. "He was innocent in all of this, he was just trying to protect his family like the rest of us. He didn't deserve to die because of that evil, power hungry cockroach."

Sensing that she was getting overly worked up, Draco squeezed her shoulder lightly, rubbing his thumb back and forth to remind her that it was over now- the cockroach wasn't around to hurt them anymore.

"Okay," Theo raised his hands in apology, his tone slightly less accusatory. "I suppose that makes sense if you're a good person. What I'm not getting is how that led to dating."

"How does anything lead to dating?" Hermione snapped. "We got to know each other and eventually developed feelings. Would you like to know the full, intimate details?"

"No, no I don't," Theo shook his head quickly. "I- sorry, I'm not trying to be an arse. I just- you're Hermione-freaking-Granger, you're the Gryffindor golden girl, how do you develop feelings for _him_?"

He pointed a thumb at Draco, who was glaring dangerously at his best friend.

"I'm sorry, aren't you supposed to be his best friend?" Hermione demanded. "This doesn't sound like the kind of arguments a best friend makes."

"We have an unconventional friendship," Theo shrugged. "Now you haven't answered the question."

"I don't think you've asked the one you want to know the answer to yet," Hermione countered.

They glared at each other for a moment, while Draco looked between them worriedly.

"How do I know this wasn't just some elaborate scheme to get to the Dark Lord?" Theo asked, his espression stone cold.

"Theo!" Draco snapped at his friend angrily, while Hermione gave a derisive snort of laughter. "Hermione, you don't have to-"

"No," she cut him off quickly. "If this is going to work we're going to have to have this out, and there's no time like the present."

She turned her icy glare on Theo, but if he was at all intimidated he didn't show it.

"I begged Draco not to go back to that house. When I started helping him with the cabinet, it was because it was the right thing to do, and then we became friends. We got to know each other, we shared our likes and dislikes, our interests and favourite things. And then we shared our childhoods, and our home lives, and our secrets- we bared our fucking souls to each other," Hermione spoke slowly, making sure that her meaning was crystal clear. "I was not playing Draco, I wasn't trying to get him to tell me secrets, I would have helped him even if he hadn't given me information to give to the Order, and I certainly wasn't trying to get to Voldemort. I was trying to get him away from that lunatic!"

"Mione," Draco tried to interrupt her, but she was on a roll.

"The night Dumbledore told him that he could go back and play the double agent, I thought I was going to die right then and there. My heart broke, and I almost killed the fucking Headmaster myself just to keep Draco safe. So don't you dare try to insinuate that I was playing him," she spat angrily. "I love Draco, and he loves me, so you can either accept that, or fuck off!"

Silence fell over the group as Theo continued to stare at the Gryffindor girl, his expression as vacant and stoic as it had been at the beginning of her speech, and then the corner of his mouth quirked upwards and he looked at Draco approvingly.

"I like her."

The couple stared back at him for a moment, thoroughly confused, then Hermione began to laugh. At first, it was simply a silent sniff, but slowly it turned to an all out belly laugh and before they knew it both she and Draco had tears in their eyes, their shoulders shaking and their faces red with pure joy. It didn't matter that everyone who looked at them thought they'd gone mad, or that they probably shouldn't have been laughing when there were so many reasons to curl up and cry instead, all that mattered was that they were alive and they were together, and there wasn't a soul in the world that could change that.


	23. Chapter 22

When they'd all calmed down, the subject of Draco's parents came up and Hermione felt him tense behind her as Theo informed his friend that the Malfoys were still alive.

"Aurors took them into custody, I saw them being escorted out to an apparition point," he filled them in. "They were walking, which is more than I can say for some of their cohorts."

"Who else was with them?" Draco asked, his mind immediately making a list of the Deatheaters that would pose the greatest threat.

"Rookwood, Yaxley and the Carrows," Theo recalled. "I don't know about anyone else. A lot probably ran for it when they realized Potter wasn't actually dead."

Now it was Draco's turn to feel his partner tense beneath his hands, a sharp breath escaping her at the mention of her best friend's near demise.

"It's okay, love," he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "He's alright."

Hermione nodded, but said nothing, pulling his arm around her a little tighter.

"Have you contacted Blaise yet?" Theo asked.

"I owled him," Draco nodded. "Let him know it was all over."

"Where is he?" Hermione asked.

"He took all the evacuated kids he could to his mother's villa in Brighton, figured they were safer there than in Hogsmeade."

"All of them?" she raised an eyebrow.

"All that wanted to go," Draco shrugged. "The Slytherins who don't want anything to do with their parent's lunacy, and any other students that didn't have families to keep them safe."

"By himself?"

"Daphne and Astoria went too," Theo shook his head. "Maybe some older kids from other houses too, I don't know."

They were all quiet again, taking in the scene around them- the damaged walls and floors, the grieving families, the jubilant groups of survivors.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I'd settle for a full night's sleep," Theo offered.

"That sounds great," Harry suddenly appeared, Ron tagging along behind him. "Hermione, can I borrow you for a sec?"

"Of course," she smiled and got to her feet, squeezing Draco's hand quickly before taking Harry's and following him outside, leaving the two Slytherins alone.

"So you and Hermione," Theo turned to his friend. "Wow."

Draco nodded, still uncertain as to how Theo felt.

"You really care about her, don't you?" He said, observing the way Draco watched her until she was out of sight, the way he had held her so tightly and cared for her when she'd had a panic attack earlier in the night.

"I love her," Draco said bluntly. "More than I can even fathom."

Theo nodded slowly, weighing this declaration in his head. It was obvious that they cared for each other- he'd never seen anyone defend Draco like she had when he'd questioned her, aside from himself and Blaise- and it was impossible to ignore the way he seemed to relax in her presence, as though she were a vial of calming draught.

"Okay," he nodded once more, this time with a distinct air of finality- Draco was happy, he was in love with this girl, what more could a best friend want.

"Okay?" Draco studied his friend's expression carefully for signs of disgust or disapproval.

"Okay," Theo repeated.

"Thank you," Draco sighed in relief.

They sat in companionable silence once again, Draco contemplating how much better he felt knowing that his best friend didn't disapprove of his relationship, while Theo seemed to be trying to work something out.

"The night you disappeared," he finally said. "What really happened?"

"What did they tell you?"

"Nothing, but there were rumours. The most popular one was that you'd betrayed _Him_ and been killed."

"Well isn't that sweet. At least I was worth murder."

"Yes, that's the way to look at it," Theo rolled his eyes. "The real story?"

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott," Professor McGonagall approached them, silencing Draco. "Just the gentlemen I was looking for. Your housemate, Mr. Zabini, has appeared in my fireplace and refuses to remove himself until speaking with the two of you."

"Why?" Draco frowned.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have come all the way down here, abandoning my work and leaving Mr. Shacklebolt to hunt down the worried parents of most of my students. Now, if you would come and get rid of him, I would be most grateful."

Without another word, the deputy Headmistress turned on her heel and stormed away, obviously expecting the boys would follow.

"I know that feeling so well," Theo huffed, dragging Draco to his feet and following McGonagall from the hall.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott, as requested," McGonagall huffed as they entered the Headmaster's office. "Now, would you be so kind as to give me back the use of my floo network?"

"Right, sorry Headmistress," Blaise nodded and stepped through the flames. "I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that I really needed to speak with you- all of you."

"All of us?" she raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly would you like to disscuss?"

"The students I'm currently hiding in one of my mother's abandoned manors," he frowned. "You see, a lot of their parents were involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They all think their parents are dead and, well, they're scared. They don't know what's going to happen to them."

"Happen to them?" Kingsley spoke up, a confused look on his face.

"They think you're going to send them to Azkaban," Blaise explained.

"Why on earth would they think that?!"

"Because that's what they were told would happen," Theo sighed. "What we were all told."

"Well, that is just absolute nonsense!" Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I'll go tell them that myself. Mr. Zabini, if you would be so kind-"

"No offense, Professor," Draco interrupted. "But I don't know if hearing it from you is going to help..."

"Well then, who do you reccomend speaks to them?" she asked, arms crossed.

"They're asking for Draco," Blaise said.

"Me?!"

"Hey, you're the one who gave the rousing speech about choosing sides and protecting each other," Theo pointed out. "And you've always been the de facto leader, you've always taken care of them. Are you really surprised?"

"You're not?!" Draco looked between his friends incredulously.

"No," they both rolled their eyes.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, it seems you have some children to attend to," McGonagall smiled.

"Great," he frowned. "Um, okay, I'll meet you there soon. I've just got to do something first."

"Seriously?" Blaise frowned.

"Seriously. I know the house, I'll be there soon."

Before anyone else could argue, Draco turned on his heel and left, taking the stairs two at a time and heading straight for the entry hall.

If he was going to take care of all those kids, he was going to need his better half.

"Neville," he chased the Gryffindor into the Great Hall. "Neville! Have you seen Hermione?"

"Uh, yeah," Neville screwed up his face as he tried to remember where. "She was outside with Harry and Ron, I think. Near the lake."

"Great, thanks," Draco clapped him on the back and ran off.

* * *

The Golden Trio was just making their way back up the path looking like they were about to drop dead from exhaustion when he got outside.

"Hey, you alright?" Hermione frowned, noting the panicked look in his eye.

"Yeah, I just need your help," he nodded quickly.

"Of course you do," Ron huffed. "It's not like she didn't just fight a bloody war or anything."

"We all just fought a war," Harry reminded him. "Come on, let's go find Ginny."

He gave Hermione's hand a final squeeze, clapped Draco on the shoulder, then led Ron away from the couple, back inside.

"What's wrong?" Hermione turned to Draco as soon as they were gone.

"The students, the Slytherins and the pureblood and halfblood kids from the other houses, Blaise took them all to a safehouse, right?"

"Right," she nodded along.

"Well, now they're all terrified they're going to be sent to Azkaban because of their parents, or sure their parents are dead and they're orphans. Either way, they're scared and need someone to take care of them. And apparently that someone needs to be me."

"I didn't know you were good with kids," Hermione smiled softly.

"I'm not, but I gave them a good speech before they were evacuated and I guess they think I've been taking care of them since _He_ came back _,_ so now apparently they're attached," he shrugged. "But I don't have a clue what to do with kids, or how to make them feel better or anything like that-"

"Okay," Hermione covered his mouth with her hand, obviously trying not to laugh. "Okay. Don't worry, it's going to be fine. Let's go."

She took his hand and let him lead her up to the Headmasters office, the door of which was wide open.

"Oh," Theo smirked when they entered the office. "So _that's_ what you needed."

"Shut up," Draco muttered, pushing past him to get to the fireplace. "We're going to Brighton Villa."

"Got it," Hermione nodded and gave him a push. "I'll see you in a second."

Once Draco was gone, Hermione turned to McGonagall and Kingsley, a worried look on her face.

"What is he supposed to tell these kids?"

"That they will be taken care of," the headmistress said sternly. "As soon as we have things worked out, we'll contact you."

"If Harry and Ron come looking for me-"

"We'll be sure to tell them where you've gone," Kingsley promised. "Now, I believe Mr. Malfoy is in need of your assisstance."

"Nothing new there," Theo smirked.

"You know, I think we're going to get along quite well Nott," Hermione chuckled as she stepped into the fireplace.


	24. Chapter 23

Draco caught her as she stumbled out of the fireplace and led her across the hall into what she could only assume had been a ballroom at some point, though it had been left to decay for too long to be truly elegant anymore. It was also packed with kids huddled in small groups, looking incredibly scared. As soon as they were through the door, all the Slytherins in the room came running up to Draco.

"What happened?"

"Where is everyone?"

"Where's my mum?"

"Are we going to Azkaban?"

Hermione's heart clenched at the fear in their voices, they were too young to be worrying about things like this- they were too young for all of it.

"No one is going to Azkaban," Draco said sternly. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"But-"

" _Nothing wrong_ ," he repeated.

"Y-you're Hermione Granger," a small brunette girl realized, her eyes wide.

"Yes," Hermione gave her a small smile. "What's your name?"

"S-sarah," she stuttered. "A-are you here to take us away?"

"No!" Hermione shook her head, dropping to her knees and taking the girl's hands in hers. "Listen, Sarah, nobody is going to arrest you- any of you. You heard what Draco said, you haven't done anything wrong. Draco and I, we're here to help, just like Blaise and Theo."

"You know Draco?" Sarah asked, obviously taking this as a comfort.

"Yeah," Hermone smiled brightly. "Draco and I are really good friends."

Sarah turned to Draco at this, a questioning look in her eyes.

"It's true," he nodded.

"He fancies her," Theo joined them, whispering conspiratorially.

"Everyone!" Draco shouted above the general noise of the room, then summoned a chair and climbed on top of it so that they could all see him. "I know you're scared, and you don't know what's going on, but I want to get a few things straight!"

"Are they sending Dementors for us?!" someone cried, sounding like they were on the edge of tears.

"NO! There aren't going to be any Dementors, nobody is going to Azkaban, and nobody is going to come and hurt any of you!"

"How do you know?!" an older girl stood up, and Hermione vaguely recognized her as a fifth year.

"She told me," Draco pointed to his girlfriend. "And I've heard she's kind of important, so..."

"Draco!" Hermione hissed, glaring at him despite the giggles that rippled through the room.

"So if we're not going to Azkaban, what's going to happen to us?" a boy called out.

Draco looked at Hermione, obviously expecting her to answer this question.

"Well, they're working on it," she said lamely. "Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt are in the process of tracking down your families and getting you home."

"What if we don't have a home?" Sarah asked quietly, tugging on Hermione's hand.

"Then you'll stay here," Blaise stepped in. "We have to take care of each other, just like we always have." He smiled encouragingly, seeming to look each and every one of the students in the eye, then nodded for Draco, Theo and Hermione to join him in the corridor.

"We'll be right back," Hermione smiled at Sarah, carefully prying her hand from the younger girl's. "You just stay here, alright?"

She nodded nervously and fell back into the crowd, allowing Hermione to follow the boys outside.

"Okay, what do we do now?" Blaise asked.

Draco shrugged. "You're the one who said said we have to take care of each other. I thought you had a plan."

"You're the one who always knew _how_ to take care of everyone," Blaise argued.

"You're both pathetic," Theo rolled his eyes. "Thank Merlin we've got someone sensible here now. Granger?"

"Me?" she looked up in surprise.

"Brightest witch of our age, brains of the Golden Trio, just won the war, yes you," he nodded obviously. "Any ideas?"

"I don't know what to do with children!"

"You've spent the last seven years taking care of Potter and Weasley," Draco frowned. "You must have picked up something."

"Maybe now isn't the time to piss her off," Blaise suggested.

"Sorry," he shrugged. "It was just too easy."

"You're lucky I like you," Hermione frowned. "Okay, um, they've been up all night, we all have. What everyone needs right now is sleep- maybe food?"

"I don't think anyone's going to want to be alone," Theo reasoned, peeking his head into the ballroom.

"I don't think anyone is going to be doing a lot of _sleeping_ ," Draco muttered.

"You're underestimating the benefits of complete and total exhaustion," Hermione shook her head.

"No, I'm remembering the last time I slept through the night," he argued. "It was a suspiciously long time ago."

"Tell me about it," she patted his cheek. "Are we sure everyone should stay here, though?"

"What do you mean?" Theo frowned. "Where else are we going to go?"

"Hogwarts?" she shrugged. "I mean, it's probably a lot safer than here, they'll have put up the protective wards as soon as things calmed down a little, and they'll all be able to sleep in their own beds."

"I don't know," Draco frowned. "I mean, Hogwarts may have been home before, but this past year has been pretty hard."

"Actually, I think Hermione might have a point," Theo shook his head. "I mean, we had a pretty hard time, but the younger kids still see Hogwarts as a sanctuary. I think they'd feel safe there."

"I certainly think we'd all be better off there," Hermione agreed. "I mean, all the professors are still there, plus the Order. You know, people who know what they're doing and how to take care of children?"

"Yeah," Draco ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, you're probably right. Okay, you go floo McGonagall and we'll start sorting everyone out."

"We should start a list as well," Hermione suggested. "So that we know exactly who's here."

"Like a roll call?" Theo frowned.

"Exactly like that."

"You know, for people who have almost no experience with children we seem to be doing pretty good," Blaise nodded approvingly.

"Well, that's great," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Now you've jinxed us."

"What?" All three both frowned at her.

"He didn't touch his wand," Draco pointed out.

Hermione smiled. "It's a Muggle saying. Nevermind. I'll go Floo Professor McGonagall."


	25. Chapter 24

It took two hours to get everyone back to the castle and settled for the night. As soon as they'd stepped through the fireplace, each student was passed off to their Head of House and escorted up to their dormitories, until only the Slytherins remained.

"Right, come on then," Draco began herding them through the dungeon hallways towards the dormitories. It wasn't until they reached the Common Room that he met with some resistance, mostly from the younger kids.

"It's okay," Daphne Greengrass stepped in. "If you don't want to go back to your dorm rooms you can stay in here, all together. We'll transfigure some mattresses and sleeping bags."

There were murmurs of agreement to this plan, and slowly everyone began to disperse, going to their rooms to change into pyjamas or go to bed.

"Now what?" Astoria turned to Draco expectantly as the room cleared out.

"Why does everyone keep looking at me?" he frowned exasperatedly.

"Because you're the one that's taken care of us all for the last four years," Daphne scoffed. "You're the one who handles these things."

"I'd be more than happy to relinquish my position," Draco grumbled.

"Too late," Theo shook his head. "So, seriously, what do we do now?"

"Sleep," Blaise said. "Now, we sleep. Because I'm about to fall over, and I'm sure everyone else is too."

"That's for sure," Daphne nodded. "I'm gonna sleep out here tonight, in case they have nightmares."

"Me too," Astoria linked her arm through her sisters. "In case _I_ have nightmares."

Daphne smiled sourly and rested her head on top of her sister's.

"Come on boys," Blaise clapped Theo and Draco on their shoulders and gave them a shove towards the dormitories. "Let's get some sleep."

"That's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say, Zabini," Theo chuckled. "Drake, you coming?"

"Just a minute," Draco waved them on and turned to Hermione, who had remained tucked into his side ever since their return to the castle. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she frowned. "Why?"

"You've just been a lot quieter than usual."

"I didn't want to get in the way," she shrugged. "It's your house, your friends. I didn't think they'd want my opinion."

"That's because you're slightly mad," he kissed her forehead. "You don't have to stay here tonight if you don't want to, you know. You can go to your own dorm."

"D-do you not want me to stay?" Hermione asked nervously, suddenly very interested in the carpet.

"I desperately want you to stay," Draco said seriously, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him. "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I just want to stay with you," she said quietly, chewing her bottom lip.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he smiled, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "So if you'd feel better sleeping in your old bed, then that's where we'll sleep."

Hermione finally met his eyes, studying his face carefully as she continued worrying her bottom lip. Draco was about to ask what was wrong when she smiled softly, reaching up to play with the hairs at the back of his neck.

"You, Draco Malfoy, never cease to amaze me," she sighed. "I don't want to go back to the tower, I don't want to see anyone."

"Thank Salazar!" Draco took a deep breath, as though he had been holding it in lieu of her answer, trying to lighten the mood. "I don't think I'd have been able to sleep with all that Gryffindor red around me."

"You're ridiculous," Hermione shook her head, smiling again.

"Yeah, but you like me anyways," he kissed her. "Come on, lets get you to bed."

He took her hand and led her down a corridor off the common room, weaving left and right until they came to a regal set of double doors.

" _This_ is your dorm room?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Don't act so surprised," Draco chuckled. "We're a bunch of stuck up pricks, remember?"

"I'm sure she's well aware," Blaise threw open the doors. "I'd be happy to offer a broader field of study, though."

"Try it," Draco growled, tucking Hermione into his side protectively. "See what happens."

"Now, now, don't get testy," Blaise raised his hands defensively. "I'm just kidding- but the offer stands if you ever get tired of him."

He winked at Hermione conspiratorially, making her roll her eyes.

"I'm sure she'll keep that in mind," Draco drawled. "Can we go to bed now?"

"As long as you put up silencing charms," Blaise said, stepping aside and gesturing regally for them to pass him.

Draco shoved him harshly, knocking the suave Italian off balance and sending him to the floor. Hermione hid her face in his shoulder to repress a giggle, while Blaise glared up at her boyfriend.

"Was that necessary?"

"That's my bed at the end," Draco pointed Hermione to the four poster in the far corner of the room, ignoring Blaise's complaints. "There should be clothes in the trunk still, take anything you want."

Hermione nodded and timidly crossed the room, doing her best not to stare. Based on the doors, and the overall stigma of the house, she had expected the dormitory to look like it could have easily fit into Buckingham Palace. Instead, she found herself in a room very similar to the boys' at the Burrow, with the exception of the green walls. There were various Quidditch posters above the beds, as well as posters for 'The Weird Sisters' and a few other musical groups Hermione didn't recognize. It also struck her how cluttered the room was, apart from the area around Draco's bed.

"If we'd known we were having visitors we would have cleaned up," Theo joked, entering through a door on the far side of the room.

"Oh, no, I-" Hermione stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"I was just kidding," he assured her. "We probably wouldn't have cleaned up. And don't let that corner fool you," he pointed to Draco's bed. "It's only clean because he hasn't been here in a month. He's just as messy as we are."

"That is not true," the accused blonde called over.

Hermione smiled at the two boys as they bickered about Draco's cleaning habits, before opening the trunk at the foot of Draco's bed to find something to change into. She found a well-worn Quidditch jersey in the bottom of the trunk and smiled.

* * *

The bathroom was far grander than the dorm, and seemed to be private- which felt like a rip off, since Hermione had to share a bathroom with every other girl in Gryffindor Tower. There was a large shower as well as a claw foot bathtub that could fit at least four people, along with a large marble counter and double sink.

Looking at the shower, Hermione realized how desperately she needed to wash off the last forty-eight hours. As the water poured over her, washing away the dirt and grime and Morgana only knew what else of the night, she could feel her emotional walls washing away as well, the last year finally catching up to her so quickly that it knocked the wind out of her. Heaving with sobs, she collapsed onto the bottom of the shower, laying down and pulling her knees into her chest, simply letting the waves come.

She didn't know how long she lay there before Draco came in, she didn't even realize that he was there until he pulled her into a sitting position.

"I've got you," he promised. "I'm right here, I've got you."

Hermione simply sobbed in answer, clutching his hand desperately.

She wasn't listening to a word he was saying, but the sound of his voice was calming, and whenever he stopped talking she squeezed his hand, urging him to continue. When the all encompassing pain finally let up and she was able to catch her breath, she pushed the sopping wet hair from her face and studied her boyfriend carefully.

"You're still wearing your clothes," she said quietly.

"So are you," Draco smirked.

Hermione looked down at herself and frowned, having had no idea that she'd forgotten to undress.

"Why don't we do something about that?" Draco suggested.

Without waiting for an answer he began carefully peeling her many layers of clothing off, each layer revealing more blood and grime, and he had to stop himself from wincing at the sight. Once he had her shirt off, he carefully examined her torso to ensure none of the blood was her. All through this process Hermione was silent, almost catatonic, barely moving and presumably unable to stand on her own judging by how heavily she was leaning against him.

When they were both clean, Draco wrapped her in a towel and went to get himself clothes. When he came back, she was laying curled up on the floor, her hair splayed around her creating a puddle.

"Come on, love, you've got to sit up for me, okay?" Draco crouched down and carefully pulled her up again, leaning her against his chest so he could dry her hair. Once that was done, he helped her into his old Quidditch jersey and boxer shorts and was about to carry her back into the dormitory when she started to laugh. At first, it was so quiet he thought she was crying again, but it quickly bubbled into hysterical guffaws, and Draco felt his heart break at the sound. For one terrifying moment, he thought that she had truly gone mad, just as his Aunt had after so many years of torture at the hands of her husband.

"Hermione," he took her face in his hands. "Hermione, look at me!"

The moment she met his eyes, the laughter stopped and the pain returned.

"How can you be so fucking calm right now?" she demanded, her voice catching. "The world just fucking ended, and you're a bloody cucumber!"

"I'm a what?"

"A cucumber. You're cool as a fucking cucumber, it's a muggle saying," she explained in an annoyed tone.

"Of course it is," he rolled his eyes. "That sounds like the kind of barmy thing that would come out of a muggle. By the way, have I told you how much I enjoy it when you curse? It's a real turn on."

Hermione rolled her own eyes and relief coursed through Draco, knowing that his girlfrend was still in this shell of a body he'd been watching for the last hour. Then she looked at him imploringly, obviously waiting for him to answer her question.

"Because you need me to be," he said softly. "That's how I can be so calm."

In that moment, Hermione didn't think she had ever been more in love with the man in front of her, nor had she ever felt so loved.

The world had fallen apart, they had both lost almost everything, but all he seemed to care about was the fact that she needed him.

Without a moment's hesitation, her lips were on his, one of her hands behind his neck, tugging at his hair while the other cupped his cheek, holding him to her. Draco resisted her for only a second, before pulling her into his lap and sliding his hands up her shirt, tracing her spine and grasping desperately at her hips. He was probably leaving bruises, but neither one of them cared, too desperate to have each other to take note.

When Draco tasted her tears he didn't pull back, simply continued his ministrations, his lips moving softly against hers, then to kiss the tears from her cheeks.

"It's alright," he whispered, sucking at her neck softly. "Just let it out."

Hermione nodded weakly against him, one hand still tangled in his hair, spurring him on, while the other wrapped in his shirt, holding it so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"I'm right here," Draco promised, placing a hand over hers and gently easing her grip. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

He repeated the words over and over, peppering her face and shoulders with kisses, never once moving the arm he had wrapped tightly around her waist. He didn't stop whispering until he felt her hands release him and her breathing even out when she'd cried herself to sleep.

Theo was sat on his bed, watching the door when they emerged and quickly jumped up to help Draco get Hermione into bed.

"I was about to blast the door off," he whispered. "You've been locked in there for hours."

"You should have gone to sleep," Draco frowned.

Theo just waved him off and looked down at the witch in his friend's arms worriedly.

"Is she okay?"

"She will be," Draco nodded, setting her down in the center of the mattress, careful to keep one hand on her the whole time since he knew the moment she felt he was missing she would wake.

"Are _you_ okay?" Theo asked, studying his best friend carefully.

"You know, I think this is the first time I've ever felt completely safe," Draco sighed, suddenly understanding Hermione's earlier fit of giggles as he was torn between laughing hysterically and sobbing. "It's all a bit mad, isn't it?"

"More than a bit," Theo chuckled. "But you're right. It's definitely safe."

"Its an odd feeling," Draco observed.

"Yeah... not bad though."

"No, not bad at all."

Draco smiled minutely as he watched Hermione sleep. The nightmares would come for her soon enough, he knew that, but for now everything was peaceful and he could definitely get used to that.

 **A/N: The End (Not really, though) Thank you to everyone who has followed, commented on and read this story, I love each and every one of you! If you want to follow Draco and Hermione's story further, I'm working on a sequel. I'm going to be posting chapters every Monday, I think, and it's called 'Love Will Set You Free'.**

 **Thank you again for all your support, it means the world to me!**

 **-Emma**


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